Resurrection
by jelibeanne
Summary: Post AWE. Spoilers, so be warned. Waking up in the home of an unknown woman, James struggles to remember what happened upon the Flying Dutchman and strives to find out how he came to be in her care. NorringtonOC
1. Chapter 1

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save my original characters.

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**A/N:** Please bear with me on this. I was not happy with the lack of screen time James received, nor the method of his... departure. So I am doing some tampering. Which means, yes, this is completely self-serving.

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James opened his eyes slowly, every fiber of his body tense in expectation that danger was forthcoming. He swallowed hard and forced his breath to slow. The last thing he remembered was the looming figure of Davy Jones rising above him, asking, "Do you fear death?" Despite the searing pain in his chest at the time, James had appropriately responded by thrusting his sword through the merman, for all the good it did. Even through the fog of agony washing over him, James knew it was pointless to try to kill someone who was already dead. Then blackness enveloped his senses.

But as he opened his eyes, James found that he was not on the deck of the Flying Dutchman. Nor riding the waves from being tossed overboard in disregard. Nor washed up on a sandy shore somewhere with birds circling, waiting for him to die. Instead, he was lying in a bed in a room he was not at all familiar with. Sunlight filtered through curtains made of homespun fabric, casting the room in warm glow. The walls were whitewashed and everything in the room, which was absent of any adornment, was also pale. It was difficult to tell if it was morning or afternoon, for there was no clock in the room and his personal effects were absent. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed to explore the rest of the home, but found himself too weak to do so and a sweat broke out upon his brow.

"Ah, I see you finally awoke. I was beginning to wonder – you have been out for quite some time."

Startled, James sank back against the pillows and turned in the direction of the voice, staring in surprise as a young woman entered the room carrying an armful of fresh towels. She was dressed very plainly, in a navy skirt and white blouse, and her ebony hair was pulled back into a simple braid that fell to the middle of her back. Her lips were curved into a warm smile that was so infectious that James found himself helpless but to return her grin.

The woman glided across the floor, setting the towels upon a bureau and then sinking into the chair next to the bed. Her features were serene and pleasing – and James found himself gawking at her like some awestruck schoolboy. The black of her hair caused the paleness of her skin to appear luminescent. Her eyes, dark with concern, were the richest, deepest brown he could ever remember seeing and were shadowed a delicately drawn brow that was currently knitted with worry. James placed her age to be nearly ten years his junior, but a sudden headache appeared behind his eyes and the pain overrode all ability to make judgments.

Watching her patient struggle with confusion and pain, she placed a slim hand against his forehead, hoping her touch was cool against the fever that greeted her. This time she was not worried, for although his skin had been warm for several days now, the fact that he had awaken probably meant that the fever was breaking. She wet her lips before asking, "How are you feeling?"

James quirked an eyebrow. Such a simple question, but the answer was legion. He opted for concise until he felt stronger. "Exhausted. Sore. Confused. Thirsty."

Nodding her head in either agreement of amusement, she smiled ruefully before replying, "The last I can easily remedy. The others will be taken care of in due time." She rose from the chair and crossed the room. Beneath the window, a pitcher sat within a basin on a well-worn table. Hidden from his view, but appearing when she picked it up, a drinking glass was quickly filled and then water spilled into the basin. A washcloth was dipped into the water and then wrung out. Sinking back into the chair, his hostess, for lack of a better word, presented him with the water and smiled. "Drink up."

James took the glass and was grateful that she knew instinctively to help him sit up, although he felt like an idiot because he was indeed so helpless. She braced his shoulders so that he could properly sit up, one of her hands rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades. It occurred to him, fleetingly, that such actions were inappropriate, but as some of the tension washed away, James wished for her to never stop.

Once the glass was empty and he was resettled on the pillows, the cool washcloth blanketing his brow, James felt that he was owed a few answers. But since she had been so kind, and he felt so fragile, demanding that she give responses seemed rather hostile. So he quietly asked, "I feel quite foolish in asking, but how… how did I get here?"

Her laughter was like bells, comforting and filling the air. Taking the empty tumbler from James, she set it on the bedside table and sighed. It had not been discussed how to handle the aftermath of his arrival in her home, but she figured honesty, in very small doses until James gained more strength, was the best course of action. "A mutual acquaintance of ours asked that I care for you during your convalescence. They promised me that you were well on the path to recovery when I received you and that you just needed a little more help in gaining strength. Basically, I was told that you needed help in recovering from your injury. On others, that wound would have been mortal. You are very lucky. But none of that matters right now. You are safe. You are tired. You need more rest."

It suddenly dawned on James that he had been skewered through by that whelp Will Turner's father. Pulling away the fabric of the borrowed shirt he was wearing from his shoulder, he swallowed hard. Sure enough, there was a freshly formed pink scar that started right above his heart. Unable to look and see where it continued, his hands dropped from the garment and James closed his eyes, grimacing in frustration.

Her slim fingers lightly touched in his forearm, causing him to sigh. Her voice was low for a woman, but the cadence was almost lyrical. Listening to her speak was enough to relax some of the tension from his muscles. "There is nothing to be upset about. Soon, you shall be back to your old self. I have brought you two books to read. Cervantes' 'Don Quixote' and Homer's 'Odyssey.' I was told that you were well educated, so I thought to pass the time you might want something to do." She stood and slipped the two tomes out from the pile of towels, placing them within reach on the nightstand.

James watched her, but since sleep was demanding that he submit to its will, his words came out slurred when he said, "What I want to do is get out of here. Wherever _here_ is."

Hands went to hips in mock exasperation. "Admiral Norrington, you are doing amazingly well, but you are as weak as a newborn. I promise you that you shall be up and about in no time. But do not push yourself before you are ready." A smile curved her lips, this time reaching her eyes.

Her words intruded into his descent into slumber, pulling him awake. Panic darkened his green eyes to black. "You know, I know nothing right now. I mean not to be rude, but who are you? Where am I?" He almost winced at how his words spilled forth, like the ravings of a madman. However, with no information, it was like he was being held prisoner.

A cool washcloth was pressed against his brow in immediate response. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I know it is easier said than done, but try to relax and not to fret. I am a friend. That is all you need to know right now. Try to rest and as you gain strength, I shall tell you more." She looked at him for several moments, her gaze roaming over his features, before rising and making for the door.

Exhaustion beat at him with two fists, but since he still had more questions than answers, he struggled to sit upright. Hating the tone in his voice, James nonetheless was unable to keep the desperation out of his words. "Then your name. Please, if nothing else, I ask that I might know your name."

She stopped in her tracks. Her hand was on the doorknob and all she wanted to do was slip from the confines of the room. But she shouldered the responsibility of caring for the man until he was not only healthy, but stong – both physically and mentally. Before shutting the door behind her, she smiled back at the man on the bed. "Helen. My name is Helen."

Then the door latched shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters

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_On others, that wound would have been mortal. You are very lucky._

Her words rang repeatedly in his head all through the night. Dawn was just creeping through the window, putting the world in a rosy tint, and James realized that sleep had completely eluded him as the words continued to echo behind his closed eyes. _What on earth does that mean? How could I survive such a wound?_ Was he just lucky or was there more to it?

Stretching, then rolling his head to work some of the tension out of his neck, James sighed, then wondered why there was no pain behind he scar. The injury had to have punctured his lung and yet he was able to draw a full breath. Yes, he was weak and ached, but the skin was still healing, so the recovery should not be so advanced. The woman was right; the wound should have been mortal.

Sleep was proving to be evasive, so James pushed himself so that he was sitting against his pillows. He absently reached for the books she… Helen… had left for him. Don Quixote and Ulysses. One man chasing windmills and the other… _Wait… Calypso… Davy Jones…_

Davy Jones was in love with the sea. And the sea was Calypso. Their relationship ended and the sorrow Jones felt in the aftermath caused him to cut out his heart and lock it away in a chest, making Jones immortal. Feeling betrayed, Jones appealed to the Pirate Lords to bind Calypso into human form, providing them with the method of doing so.

_Do you fear death? _

James closed his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to block any more past images from popping up but was rewarded with the memory of Elizabeth Swann seconds before he crushed his lips to hers.

Elizabeth. Seeing her after the capture of the Empress, he had nearly wept. Kissing her, he had nearly swooned like a schoolgirl. Word had gotten back to James that she had… died. Bloody Hell, the thought of her possibly being dead still hurt. But there she was – on the dock of the Flying Dutchman – even more beautiful than he remembered.

The anger in her eyes, the accusation in her tone when she charged him with knowing of her father's death caused him to recoil at the memory. Weatherby Swann had been a good friend of his; almost a father figure to James. The pain she felt due to the loss of her father became his own. Murdered! By the command of the man who had given James back his dignity. Denial of knowledge was ignored by Elizabeth. But in her fury, she was glorious. A fierce warrior goddess.

James had offered Elizabeth his quarters, hoping – praying – that she would accept, but was not surprised when she refused, believing that he chose the wrong side to ally with. After the passage of several hours, James decided that she was right; he had chosen the wrong side and planned to correct whatever mistakes he could between the two of them. Within himself. And no matter what, she still owned his heart. He was helpless but to help her.

Releasing Elizabeth and her crew from the brig, he lead them to the lines tethering the Empress to the Flying Dutchman. As her crew scrambled across the lines, she had to go and ask for the reasons behind his actions. Even now, the idea that the East India Trading Company had enough power to give him back one iota of the respect he so desperately thought he needed made his stomach turn. Respect came from within and Elizabeth finally showed him that. Rather than choosing what others would consider the right side, he finally saw where his heart laid – and although one good deed was not enough to absolve a man of his sins, he saw the release of his former fiancée a good jumping off point. When she pleaded for him to join her, his heart swelled with all the unrequited love that he felt for her.

_Our lives have been intertwined but never…_

Ah, God. The kiss. James' heart accelerated at the thought of it. Years of longing and desire poured forth and Elizabeth accepted his love pouring into her through a long and searching kiss. And then he pushed her out of his arms. There was a moment where he wavered, wanting to follow her across the line to the Empress, but that one second of hesitation cost him the possibility of ever joining his life with hers. The escape of Elizabeth and her crew was discovered by Bootstrap, so James shot the line in order to make Elizabeth and her crew would be safe. Then a sudden pain as a wood stake was impaled through his chest and cruel words were hurled down at him as a fog of pain blanketed James.

_James!_

He punched the mattress in frustration. The anguish in her voice as she screamed his name from the water… and then nothing. He could remember nothing. There was only blackness until he awoke in this room. And where the hell was he? How did he get here? Was there any possibility that he knew this Helen and could not remember her?

_Wait!_ Kissing Elizabeth, the emotion made him feel like he had died and gone to Heaven. _But I did die, did I not? The woman… Helen… was right. The wound should have been fatal._ James swallowed hard. How did he survive such an injury?

A knock at the door caused James to jump. A tray full of food entered the room, held by a beaming Helen as she followed right behind. Her hair was pinned up, making her neck look impossibly long and slender. A practical gray dress was her garb today and James felt remiss to not admire the way it hugged her trim figure. _Obviously, you are not so unwell that you cannot not appreciate the fine form of a fine woman._

"I brought you a light breakfast. If you do well with the food I brought, lunch might be a tad more substantial."

The smell of toast and eggs was his undoing, causing James to wonder when the last time it was when he ate. Covering his belly with a splayed hand, he was slightly embarrassed by his grumbling stomach. When the tray was set upon his lap, James nodded. "Thank you, Miss…?"

Helen crossed the room to get James something to drink. Shaking her head in the negative as she poured James a glass of water, she replied, "I told you before, my name is Helen. I do not stand on ceremony here. If I give you my last name now, you will feel compelled to use it." At the look of misgiving her patient cast her way, she smiled. "Please?"

James did not like to concede defeat, but there was nothing but sweetness in her words. His smile was tight, but he agreed. "Helen."

She sank into the chair and set the tumbler on the tray. "Thank you." Helen had to fight a smile that threatened to split her face in two. Instead, she ducked her head and fiddled with some of the items on the tray. When she was asked to care for Admiral Norrington, she had expected someone close to her father's age… or older. It was not mentioned that he would be close to her age. And quite handsome. The intensity of his green eyes unnerved her from time to time, something that no one else had been able to do for a very long time.

James found a way to get his comeuppance. "Then I am James."

Helen looked up, a wry smile twisting her lips. Her eyes narrowed. What game was he playing? "Ah, but you hold a title of respect." She laughed, shaking her head. "I am afraid that I cannot, Admiral."

He scoffed. "Right now, in light of everything that has happened to me, I do not consider my rank to be respectful at all. If anything, quite the opposite. So I insist. James. Please."

Helen looked at him for a moment, considering. She then dropped her gaze demurely, as if realizing that she was being bold, but quickly looked back at him. A soft sigh escaped past her lips. "Fine. As a guest in my home, I shall acquiesce to your request. James."

James' smile matched Helen's. After a few bites of his breakfast, he decided that he deserved a few answers to the plethora of questions that were threatening to burst out of him. But where to begin? _With the most important question, you dolt._ "Again, I mean not to be rude, but I must ask… how was it that I brought here?"

Helen sighed. Now was the moment of truth. _Just take it nice and slow. Do not rush the explanation. _ "It is… complex."

Arching a brow in annoyance, James felt that she was hedging. "And I am patient. Tell me."

Helen took a deep breath. Last night she prayed for the strength to tell the story as soon as James asked. Lacing her fingers together, she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "Elizabeth Swann…"

James pushed himself upright, almost upsetting the tray resting across his legs. "Elizabeth? How is she involved? The last time I saw her–."

Wetting her lips to buy time to think of the appropriate words, Helen felt her heart break for James. While Helen knew her guest and Elizabeth had shared an engagement, she was not aware that James still pined for her. She had to tread carefully. "James, if you want me to tell the story, then I shall. But, you must be patient. A trait you say you possess."

Appropriately chastised, James nodded his head and was quiet, spearing a forkful of eggs.

Helen nodded her head also. She then bestowed James with a smile, knowing that what she was to say would not be easy to hear. "Elizabeth Swann came to me and asked for my help. She said that you had saved her life and that she needed help in saving yours."

She could see that James was struggling not to speak, so Helen pressed on. "James, Davy Jones killed you."

At this, James was unable to keep quiet. "What? That is absurd! Look at me. I may be injured, but there is no way I am dead."

Helen shut her eyes and ran her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip. This was not how it was supposed to go, but there was nothing to do but forge ahead. "James, Jones is… was… supposed to ferry those who died at sea over to the afterlife, but due to his… distractions due to the showdown between the Pirate Lords and the Armada, you were in limbo for a period of time."

His voice, smooth, deep and silky, glided over her skin like ice on a hot iron. "Alright, I must admit that I am curious now. Then how on earth was I able to end up here?"

Sighing, Helen whispered, "Because Jones is dead." Gads, she was not enjoying this in the least.

James was silent for several moments, absorbing what he was just told. Swallowing repeatedly, he looked up at the ceiling, hoping that he would be able to formulate his thoughts. When he finally spoke, exhaustion tinged his words. "Then who is captain of the Flying Dutchman?" He winced in anticipation at the forthcoming answer.

Her words were barely audible. "Will Turner."

His eyes narrowed in confusion, his brow furrowing. Jack Sparrow did not hoist immortality upon himself? James figured that Jack would want nothing more than to captain a vessel for all of eternity. This was quite a surprise. "Bootstrap Bill Turner?"

Helen shook her head. "Nay, his son William."

James was dumbstruck. "William Turner is dead?" The bane of his existence, save for Jack Sparrow, was newly departed? He had to get out of here, for now was his chance with Elizabeth! For, obviously, she loved him too if she was so concerned about his welfare.

Helen interrupted James' racing thoughts. "Well, yes. In a way. Jones stabbed Will, so his father and Jack Sparrow used his hand to stab Jones' heart. Will's heart then had to replace Jones' in the Dead Man's Chest. He is the current captain of the Flying Dutchman. For how long depends on the love between he and his wife."

"Wife?" There was no way to keep the disappointment out of the word and he did not try.

Helen opted to ignore the hurt in the single word that hung in the air between them and pressed on with her explanation. "Elizabeth tells me that Captain Barbossa married her and Will prior to their… to Will's death. I called her Elizabeth Swann, which is incorrect as her name is now Elizabeth Turner. She asked her husband to bring you back instead of ferrying you over. He… he agreed. And asked the goddess Calypso for help, which in a mood of kindness, she granted. But the request was approved with a stipulation that Elizabeth not be the one to care for you during your recuperation. So she asked me if she might impose upon my hospitality. And, of course, I agreed."

James felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle, but chose to ignore Helen's readiness to help care for him for the moment. "So, tell me where I am."

"You are home."


	3. Chapter 3

**Obligatory disclaimer**: The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N**: I thank you all so much for your kind words and support. To say that I am overwhelmed is an understatement.

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James furrowed his brow. _Home. Where am I? She said that I am home._ Maybe he was being obtuse. Maybe he needed to be more specific. Trying again, he worried at a loose thread on the shirt he was wearing and wet his lips. "So, where – exactly – is home?"

Helen eyed the man before suspiciously. No one had mentioned that his mind would not come back along with his body. Of course, this was not an exact science. Helen swallowed, trying to buy an extra second or two in an attempt to further articulate her thoughts, and then smiled sweetly. "Your home. The home you own in Port Royal. Yes, it has been empty for a few years, but it was decided that this would be the best place for you." _Please, please, please do not let him be a simpleton. He seems so much more lucid than that._

James looked around the room, inspecting it with a calculated eye. The room was completely unfamiliar to him. He remembered the house – he had built it to commemorate his promotion to Commodore… and in hopes of giving it to Elizabeth Swann as a wedding present. _So, so long ago._ But to call this his bedroom was preposterous. "But… this is not my room." The inflection on the last word made his statement sound almost like a question. _If… if what she says happened to me did indeed happen to me, are part of my memories gone?_

Helen rose from the chair and walked over to the bureau, opening a drawer and removing several garments, setting them on the chair next to the bed. "No, you are right. This is a room located in the servants' quarters. Your room is massive and I was worried that if you were to fall out of bed, this one would be closer to the floor and the dimensions of this room are much smaller. I did not know how you would react when you finally came to, so I wanted you to be as confined as possible. We can move you later today, if you like."

James eyed the narrow bed he was laying upon. It had been quite some time since he had set foot in his own home. And while he did miss the massiveness of his four-poster bed, the view from the balcony of the harbor, the overstuffed chair before the overflowing bookcases, there was something snug and comforting about the nook that he currently was residing in. "No. Not yet. Let me… let me feel a little stronger first. Unless keeping me here is an inconvenience for you." The memory of trying to bed out of bed the night before and breaking into a sweat from lack of strength was still strong. Maybe in a few days he would explore his old quarters…

Wanting nothing more than to sit on the edge of the bed and smooth the concern from his brow, Helen smiled down at James and refilled his drinking glass. "Your concern is misplaced. It is I who should be worried. About you. Where you sleep, where you stay… it is your choice to make. I am here to ensure that you get strong. And I am in the room across the hall, so it is no inconvenience to me what so ever." The tone of her voice was compassionate, softening the emphasis of her words.

"But why you?"

_That is a better question than you know, James Norrington._ Helen ducked her head and walked towards the window. Opening the latch, she pushed the window outward with surprising ease, allowing fresh air to enter the small space. Helen then shifted her weight so that her hip pressed against the wall. Looking out at the water, she answered, "Elizabeth asked me because she and I were once very close. And she felt that she could trust your health in my hands. When she approached me, I told her the same thing I shall tell you… I am no nursemaid, but that I would do the best that I could. Then she told me the fantastic story of your death. And resurrection. There was no way I could refuse." She pivoted and faced her ward, arms crossed across her chest.

_Resurrection_.

James closed his eyes, the word echoing inside his head. _Resurrection. Having been raised from the dead or returning to life. How… how did I die and then… come back? Dare I even believe that I did die? Of course, until I saw Davy Jones for myself, I do not think I believed in him. If a man, if one could call him that, could captain a ship that…_

A sigh slid past his lips in a slow hiss. James was exhausted and was unable to wrap his mind around all that he had been told any longer. He felt the overwhelming need to push the attention that was piling up in his lap amongst the breakfast dishes away and focus on his caregiver.

James set the tray to the side and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grateful that he was wearing loose cotton pants in addition to his shirt. While he cared little for ceremony at this point in time, he did not want to tarnish either of their reputations any more than he had to. "I thank you for your help. I thank you for your proximity. Now tell me, what is it that I can do for you?"

Twisting her face into amusement, Helen scoffed. "Me? There is absolutely nothing you can do for me. But I thank you." She waited to see if James would rise to his feet or if he was just stretching his legs, frozen in place as she watched his legs swing.

But James pressed. "But you must have given up so much of your own life to care for me. How does your husband feel about this? Your family?" He looked at her hard. Someone of her age and breeding could not be married – or betrothed – in a town overrun with so many hopeful bachelors. From what he could recall when he was first stationed in Port Royal, women received proposals even as they stepped off the ships they sailed in on.

Picking up the clothing she had piled on the chair before sinking into it herself, Helen was quick to mask her face into a pleasant smile. _Tell him nothing._ "I have given up nothing. That is why I was asked. Now, stop worrying so much. I am going to change the subject." Helen quirked a brow, quieting any further protests. "If you are feeling well enough, I highly suggest that you allow me to draw you a bath. I think that clean bedding, clean clothing and just being clean would help expedite your recovery." She hoped that James was unaware that she was testing to see how strong he felt.

Shocked, James was silent for a moment. At the moment, the idea of bathing sounded blissful, but getting in and out of the bathtub would require help. "I… I think that such talk with a woman I barely know is highly inappropriate." He did not want to mention that the idea of being helped in out of the water was actually more appealing than not, for the thought was equally as shocking as Helen's initial suggestion.

Helen held her hand up to silence his protest. "And since there is no one else here to care for you, it matters not what you think to me. What does matter to me is that your strength improves. And getting up, getting clean, moving about will make you feel better. Now, if you do not think you are strong enough to stand, then you may wait. I want you to feel better, but not at the expense of your own health." Helen then briefly wondered if Elizabeth had remembered how stubborn she could be and smiled at the thought.

The appearance of a smile ghosting across her lips irritated James. "And what is it that you just said that amuses you so, Helen?" While mildly annoyed that he was unable to keep the bristling out of his inflection, e was more than a little pleased to see that Helen's face crumpled.

"Oh James, you think I am finding pleasure in your…" Her words tapered off as the anger in his eyes turned into a green fire. She crossed the room and knelt at James' feet, capturing his hands in hers. "James, what you have been though is completely fantastical. But I find nothing entertaining about it. I just was reminiscing about my childhood. About how Elizabeth would tell me I was too bold. And how, coming from her, her accusations were comical."

With his hands enveloped in Helen's, James was unable to concentrate on anything but the physical contact. And the thought of a woman caring for him, in any capacity, caused the room to shrink as a feeling of agitation washed over him. After he had initially resigned his commission, James had drunk himself through all of Tortuga, bedding women whenever he had leftover coin. But women showing any interest when it did not improve their status financially… now that was a very long time ago. _There was a time when I was the most eligible man sought out for Port Royal's daughters. Where is the man I used to be? When did I lose him?_

"Helen. I apologize, but I am feeling weak. Do you… do you mind very much if I take a nap? I… I might be interested in a bath later, but right now I think it would be too much."

Helen looked up at James, worry marring her forehead. She was certain that something had transpired between them and that was why he was asking for solitude. Just what it was that happened was beyond her. But it was not her place – yet – to push James. "As you wish." Her lips curved into a sad smile and with a pat of her hands against his, stood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Obligatory disclaimer: **The Mouse owns all, save my original characters.

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**A/N:** This chapter is very stream of consciousness. I did not want to get too existential, but it would be a huge burden to me if I were brought back. Besides, I like angst-y Norrington. :) But not much dialogue. Sorry. 

However, thank you all so much for your reviews. I so appreciate your kind words. Just the fact that people are reading this means the world to me.

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The roar of the waves floated though the open window, calling to James like a siren's song. The crashing of the surf on the beach was like an elixir, soothing his overtaxed mind and calming his racing heart. The water had always been his life. Being on land was always just a temporary diversion until he could set sail once again. His love of the sea made any possible woman in his life just a mistress, which is why James found himself alone more often than not. He felt it unfair to not give his heart completely. 

But he would have given up the water for Elizabeth Swann. He would have given up anything for her. Everything for her.

Elizabeth. Beautiful, headstrong Elizabeth. Untamable. Unflappable. Completely out of reach.

But then James closed his eyes in frustration and sighed heavily. How much time had elapsed since he had… died? Did Helen say? James could remember being stabbed… then nothing. No, wait. Cold. He remembered the searing pain in his chest, then cold. Was that from death? Was he tossed overboard into the water? God, what the Hell happened?

He had died.

And then was resurrected.

By Will Turner.

At the request of Elizabeth Swann.

His head was pounding and suddenly his heart was racing, the calming sound of the waves failing to pacify any longer, but James pushed himself off the bed and stood, teetering, for a moment before collapsing into the chair. Whatever strength he had built up completely abandoned him, but James was pleased that he had escaped the confines of the bed.

His elbows resting on his knees, James rested his head in his hands, his fingers rubbing circles at his temples. Davy Jones was dead. His heart stabbed. By Will Turner's hand. Will Turner was dead. By Davy Jones' hand. If James had not stood on the deck of the Flying Dutchman, he would not believe any of it.

The implications of what happened to him were overwhelming. James wanted to scream in frustration over the news. Why had the two of them opted to save him? Given him a second chance?

Pity?

Guilt?

Love?

Fear?

Davy Jones had asked if James feared death, a question that he found almost insulting. James had faced death – and won – too many previous times to count. But that was it… he had always come out unscathed. Or, at least, alive. Even as a drunk, there was always a known enemy. But Bootstrap blindsiding him… at the time, James wondered whose side he was on and wondered why no one else did the same.

Save Elizabeth.

Elizabeth knew what side she stood on. She always did. And always had that William Turner either in the shadows or at her side. And she had asked that James put aside duty. And propriety. And what he perceived as right… and look within himself to see what was true and just. She had asked him to join her. And damn if it had not been tempting.

But in order to do what was right, after saving her, James had to stay and deal with the consequences.

Who knew that would involve his death?

Rubbing his hands across his face to massage some of the foreboding away, James ruminated over the past several years of his life and how they had been a wild ride. Much wilder than he could have ever anticipated and crazier than he ever wanted.

Chasing Captain Jack Sparrow across the Seven Seas. Nearly catching him off the coast of Tripoli. The hurricane decimating his ship and killing most of his crew. Resigning his commission. All of Tortuga becoming his drinking hole. Joining the crew of the afore mentioned Jack Sparrow in an inane attempt to either best him or understand him. Helping find and recover, then stealing, the heart of Davy Jones. Bartering the price on his head by presenting the heart to Cutler Beckett. Not only receiving a Letter of Marque, but having his commission not only reinstated, but receiving a promotion from Commodore to Admiral. Laying eyes on Elizabeth and feeling his heart soar in the realization that she had not died. Seeing what the East India Trading Company – and Cutler Beckett – really represented. Saving Elizabeth and her crew. Being stabbed by Bootstrap.

Dying.

He had died.

Slamming his fist onto the nightstand, James bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out. No one was resurrected. People died. End of story. Now, true, the Locker was not death. Working on the Flying Dutchman was not death. Both of those fates preceded death. Death came after. But death was inevitable. And unavoidable.

And yet he had escaped that fate. For the time being. Thanks to Will Turner.

Will Turner was the captain of the Flying Dutchman. Will Turner would be gone for ten years. Ten years for Elizabeth to be alone. Ten years for James to try and woo Elizabeth without any interference from the young pup. If he could only find out where she was.

And ask why Elizabeth had installed Helen as his caregiver.

Why the Hell was some strange woman caring for him? He could swear that he had never met her before… and he thought he knew most of Elizabeth's friends. Unless… unless his mind did not fully come back with his body. _God, how long was I dead before Turner brought me back? Long enough to… decay? Ugh… I do not even want to think about that. I want to think about…_

_Helen._

There was no denying that she was lovely to look at. Low of voice, soft of features and trim of figure, James had to admit that he could have done worse in the nursemaid dispensation department. But that was the problem – no one could look like her and not have someone missing her. And how could he not remember her? If she and Elizabeth were friends, then James was sure that his path and Helen's had to previously cross. However, James flashed back to parties, balls, teas, promotions and any memory of Helen was suspiciously absent. In fact, if Helen had been present, James wondered if he would have been so besotted with Elizabeth.

There was a quiet rap at the door and then Helen ducked her head in, apprehension dancing in her brown eyes. "Oh, I was not sure if you were awake or not. I am glad to see you up. Look at you, sitting in the chair! But I wish you would have waited until I was in the room. But no matter… James, are you hungry? I made lunch. I would be happy to bring it in."

"Actually, I am quite famished. But I would like to take my meal in the dining room. And I request that you join me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Obligatory disclaimer**: The Mouse owns all, save my original characters.

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**A/N**: There is bound to be some rough patches when two strangers are brought together, no?

Thanks again for peeking in.

* * *

Helen sat across from James, a wide expanse of table separating them. She hated the silence that hung in the air, but felt that James, as owner of the home, should dictate the flow of conversation. So an almost tangible mantle of quiet wrapped around them as the soup Helen made was consumed.

Soupspoons clinked against bone china and a breeze swirled through the room, bringing in fresh air and helping to dissipate the musty smell that clung to the walls. High ceilings allowed the warm air to drift upwards, so despite the climbing temperatures outside, the room was quite comfortable. In fact, the house seemed design with comfort in mind. In the few days that she had to explore the home prior to James awakening, Helen found dark, masculine furniture throughout the rooms, but also very thoughtful touches like overstuffed sofas and chairs as well as brightly colored paintings and curios. It was almost as if the house was awaiting a woman's touch, but was trying to make up for her absence until she appeared.

From time to time, Helen snuck glances at her charge. There was no doubt that the healthier he looked, the more handsome James became. Granted, exhaustion was tingeing his features at the moment, but knowing that he was putting on a brave face made her heart swell. It was taking great effort for him to sit upright, although James' appetite was quite healthy.

Helen felt shy around James, feeling like an intruder in his home, but knew her forced bravado was just what he needed in order to listen to her and carry out her directives. But that was not who she was, especially in the presence of someone who looked like… him.

He was a tall man. So much so that when he slid into the dining room chair, it looked as if he almost had to fold himself in half to fit. His brown hair was tousled, spilling forward onto his proud expanse of forehead. Several days' growth of beard shadowed his cheeks. His green eyes were downcast, hidden by a thick forest of lashes, as he concentrated on the soup before him. An impossibly straight nose sat above full lips that were currently consuming the contents of the bowl. The loose cotton shirt and pants did little to hide his physique, which, while not overly developed, would be enough to cause someone to reconsider getting into a physical altercation with the man.

Although a physical encounter might be of interest. _Gads Helen, please do not act like some trollop and rub against the poor man like some animal in heat. Better yet, do not think about him as a man at all. He is sick. Think of him like an invalid for, right now, that is what he is._

That rich, deep voice broke though her thoughts. "So, are you married?"

The words came out of nowhere and momentarily startled Helen. Of course he would want to know. Despite finding her own features very plain, Helen knew that men would be interested in her cooking abilities and sturdy frame. As her governess once said, her hips were built to cradle babies. Not that Helen wanted a life of childrearing and cooking, but now that she had neither, a twist of sadness tightened her gut. _No. I never had the chance._

Taking her silence as admission, James pressed on. "Surely your husband is missing you." The green spark in his eyes showed that he enjoyed watching her squirm.

Helen was exhausted by the weight of the lie pressing down upon her. But the truth was too much to reveal just yet. So until she could think of a plausible tale, she opted to tell him what she could. "James, there is no husband. No family. Just me. That is why I am here. Elizabeth thought that I was the perfect person to care for you because I am walking away from nothing, no one, to care for you. And before you argue any further, I will not stay any longer than I need, but you are weak and need help."

Getting James from his quarters to the dining room proved to be a Herculean undertaking. Having him stand from the chair he had fallen into was the easier part – and that took several attempts before he stayed upright. Then there was his need to walk unassisted. Every time Helen swooped in to offer her help, he shooed her off. So, many stops were needed for James to not only rest, but to let the room stop spinning. And since many years had passed since he last walked his home's halls, James felt the need to inspect all items in his path.

It took almost an hour to get James from one side of the house to the other.

Once he was settled at the head of the table, Helen scurried to set before James a bowl of soup and a goblet of wine. A basket of piping hot rolls soon followed, along with a pitcher of water. Helen then seated herself, said a quiet prayer over her food and then waited for James to pick up his spoon.

James eyed her quietly, then looked at the food Helen had set out. From the looks – and smells – of the soup, Helen had managed to create a very appetizing clam and potato chowder. Taking a deep breath before swallowing a spoonful, James let out a sigh of contentment when the soup slid down his throat. After a "this is delicious" escaped through a full mouth, James had remained silent as he scarfed down his food, serving himself seconds when he had scraped the bowl empty.

Helen knew that she needed to come up with a plausible back-story – and immediately.

Resting her elbows on the table and steepling her finger, Helen carefully regarded this Admiral James Norrington before her. He was very young to have received such a high Naval ranking, so it was obvious that he was highly intelligent. And after perusing his books, it was clear that James was well versed in a wide variety of subjects. But being learned sometimes meant that one was slightly more… gullible. However, Helen felt that James was just as savvy in the ways of the world as he was in the realm of scholarly pursuits. So convincing him would prove to be a little more difficult.

"James, I am not now nor have I ever been married. My reasons… which really are none of your business, but I will tell you anyway as a show of good faith… are because I cared for my parents as their health declined. I was… away for quite some time… caring for them… and have only recently returned to Port Royal after I… buried my parents. I have yet to establish any real ties within the community and when Elizabeth contacted me, I was looking for more… permanent lodging. So the timing was impeccable."

An eyebrow arched upwards as James leaned back in his chair. Well if she was not a forward little tart! He could see why she and Elizabeth had been friends; both found restraint difficult when speaking. "Permanent lodging?" She did not look to be a freeloader, but James wanted her to clarify.

Helen had the grace to look discomfited. "Well, eventually. Once you are back to your full vim and vigor. I cannot care for you and live elsewhere just yet. And despite the impropriety of an unmarried woman staying here, argue that this is not what is best for you in light of the circumstances."

His voice, pure silk, trailed up and down her spine as he purred, "I do not think arguing with you is the best of ideas. While I might win in a battle of swords, I think you would win in a battle of words."

It took everything in her power not to say, _but you lost against a half-crazed merman with a chunk of wood_, but shivered instead, unable to help herself, pretending that the deep resonance of James' voice had no effect on her. It would not do if he were aware that just speaking to her caused her body to betray her. _You are here to help. No more. No less._

"I am so sorry to hear about the passing of your parents."

James' words pulled Helen out of a fog of thought, although his sentiment surprised her. _How is it that we are verbally sparring when all I want to do is help this man?_ But his polite comment sounded sincere, so Helen nodded her head demurely and smiled slightly. "Do not be, for they lived full lives. But thank you. However, and please do not think I am being rude, in light of your own recent passing, I find some macabre humor in your condolences."

James sat silent for what felt like an eternity, before his lips curved into a smile. Damn if his nursemaid was not a perverse little wench. Not at all sure if he wanted to throttle Elizabeth Swann, nay Turner, or hug her for setting loose this vixen on him, James found himself almost delighted at the thought of having Helen at his disposal for the next several days. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that he might kill her before the day was over.

Helen pressed her lips together so tightly that a white line formed. Again, she spoke without thinking. _Time to change the subject again._ "So what are you going to now that you have been given a second chance at life?"

James felt like he had been punched in the stomach. _Where the Bloody Hell did that come from?_ "I… I do not know."


	6. Chapter 6

**Obligatory disclaimer**: The Mouse owns all, save my original characters.

* * *

When hurt and confusion marred James' features, Helen rushed to finish her train of thought. "Well, I know what you are going to do." _Good God woman, could say the most inappropriate thing just when things were going well?_

James sat silent, wondering, wishing, he had enough foresight to realize what he could do with the gift that had been given to him. But if this Helen knew, then James wanted to be told. "Please enlighten me."

Knowing that James was suddenly apprehensive and concerned, not just about his future, but by what she was about to propose, Helen bestowed on her ward a saucy wink and a flirtatious smile. "First, you are going to take a nap. Then, when you awake, we shall make a list of things you would like to do but have not done, then set about making plans to do them." Feeling there was little else she could do to diffuse the gravity of the conversation, Helen fell back on what her parents said was her overabundance of original sin.

The buildup to this modest finish caused a hollow chuckle to rumble in James' chest. The woman before him had to be the most maddening, most confusing and most frustrating female he had ever met. And compared to Elizabeth Swann, that was saying something.

And the most charming.

_God's teeth, where did that thought come from?_

Shaking his head to clear the thought, James leaned forward, his arms folded on the tabletop. "So what shall you do while I sleep?" The contemptuous look was affected, but the light of mirth dancing in his eyes softened his features. Helen swallowed hard, grateful that her humor did not cause more irritation than it already had.

But she also decided that a more demure approach was necessary. Although she was still in his good graces, it would not do to antagonize James further. Folding her hands in her lap, Helen pushed her shoulders back and looked James square in the eyes. "I shall tend to your garden. See if it might be salvageable or if it needs to be cleared entirely. Take stock of what we need and make a list for the market. Possibly launder. Same as what I have been doing. Unless there is something you would like for me to instead."

"No, not at all. You are a much better judge of what needs to be done around here."

When James first woke, Helen felt that their roles were established. He, weak and recovering. She, helpful and nurturing. It seemed that the more Helen spoke, the more blurred her role became. Heat crept across her cheeks as Helen formulated an apology. Wetting her lips, Helen sighed quietly before she spoke. "James, I apologize if I say anything out of turn. I am nervous and unsure of how to act. I am sure you think me a fool at best and I care not to conjecture what you might think of me at worst. Please know that I have your best interest at heart. Even if my words get in the way of the sentiment. I… I just do not truly know what I am doing. Yes, I have cared for others before. But I knew them. And they… had not died. I… I shall try harder."

James was relieved. It had been awkward knowing a stranger – a stranger who was a woman no less – was his to care for him until he was able to care for himself. He had yet to wrap his mind around the fact that he had… died, but it was being back in his home after an absence of several years that was causing him the most difficulty. But he had to admit – he did not envy the position Helen was in either.

"There is nothing to apologize for. We are both," James paused, searching for the right word. "Adapting to our new roles. I can certainly understand the unusual situation that you have put in and think you are a saint for doing it. I am just not sure how you will feel about me in a couple day's time."

Helen ducked her head to hide the amusement in her eyes and rose from the table. Under the pretense of clearing the table, she allowed herself to be busy so that she did not think of more words to trip over. "Did you get enough to eat? It seemed that your appetite was strong."

James nodded his head. "I shall sleep with a full belly. Thank you so much; the soup was delicious. If I was not so eager to see what else you might whip up, I might ask you to make the same thing for lunch tomorrow. Now, I have a huge favor to ask. Do you… do you think that maybe when I awake that I might sit outside and watch the waves?"

Helen's face lit up like the water under a full moon. "I think that is an excellent idea. Maybe we might dine on the balcony this evening. If that would be agreeable with you."

James had the strange sensation that newly married couples who had arranged marriages spoke like he and Helen were. There was a forced affection due to proximity. He had known of such unions and found them to be more of a business partnership than anything else. _And I suppose the fact that I am already thinking of marriage proves that part of my mind was indeed damaged when I… died. Good God, I shall never get used to that. _

"Now, I know you do not know me very well, but we have to get you back to bed. And while I know the food will help, you look more tired now than you did prior to lunch. So please, let me help you up… and I wish you would use me as a crutch. 'Tis a long walk back to your bed – unless you would like to go to your old bedroom – and I think that using me to lean on will make it easier on you."

James eyed the woman who was squatting before him. Her lips were slightly parted in curiosity, revealing perfectly even white teeth. Her brown eyes were soft with compassion. With a nod, he pushed himself upright and after a moment's hesitation, shifted his arm to allow Helen to slide underneath. He smiled tightly when the thought entered his head that she fit so well beneath him. _Stop. You must stop._

Helen was silent as they walked through the house, following James' lead. His left arm draped across her shoulders and her right arm wrapped snuggly around James' waist. The feel of his muscles flexing beneath her hand made her mouth go dry. _This is so inappropriate. This is so inappropriate. This is so inappropriate._

_But so damn nice._

Promising to return in a few hours, Helen deposited James on the bed and shut the door behind her. While James slept, Helen went out of doors with full intention of tackling the garden and all the weeds choking the beds, but the mid-day sun was brutal so she took a stroll around the property, allowing herself to get lost in her own thoughts.

When Elizabeth found her, there was no denying that Helen was in bad shape. Lost and adrift, having something to do, someone to help was exactly what she needed. However, tending to a household was one thing, but caring for a man was another.

Helen arrived at the house a few hours prior to the delivery of the inert Admiral James Norrington. Dressed in the tattered remains of his Naval uniform, James looked for all intents and purposes to be dead. She stood over him for over an hour, watching him, before taking any action. It took all of her willpower, but she divested him of his garments and soon had him wearing soft, clean clothing. But since he reeked of death and fish, Helen also cleaned him off the best she could.

_There is no need to be thinking of such things._

Continuing her walk, Helen noticed the view of town from the beach and ruminated that as a child, she probably went running pell mell down the very spit of sand that she was standing on. Not at all sure of how she felt in returning to Port Royal after an absence of over ten years, Helen leaned against the floodwall and hugged her arms around herself. At aged fourteen, Helen had developed more than a passing fancy for a Andrew Gillette, an up and coming officer in the Royal Navy, much to her parents' dismay. So they bundled her up and shipped her off to England to live with an aunt in an attempt to squelch the blossoming romance.

She had kept track of Andrew for several years, getting most of her information from her best friend, Elizabeth Swann. But when Helen heard that the ship the Dauntless had sunk off the coast of Tripoli, she felt a numbness permeate her being. It was as if a part of her died that day, too.

_Well, time seems to have marched on and there is no need to live in the past. What is done is done._

Helen continued her stroll of the grounds, marveling at all the beauty of the property, despite the fact that it was overgrown and in desperate need of some love and attention. It was obvious that a woman did not design the home or the gardens, but a lot of care went into the consideration of a female presence.

Rounding a corner, Helen stopped in her tracks, eyeing the barn before her. She had made a point of avoiding the carriage house for the last several days because she was almost afraid of what lay behind the oversized doors. But knowing that no animals were awaiting her care, of having died from lack of it, Helen grabbed a hold of the handle and pulled with all her might. It was slow going, but the door eventually rolled back on its track, revealing a very empty, nearly pristine, barn.

There were no signs of any animals ever residing in the building. No musty hay. No miscellaneous tack. No tools. Nothing except for a simple carriage that looked to have been used heavily. _Maybe he bought it used and then opted against its usage? _Sighing, Helen pushed the door shut, thinking that some questions should not be asked.

Deciding that it was time to begin dinner, Helen turned and climbed the path back up to the house.

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**A/N:** I searched long and hard for any reference to Gillette's first name. I thought it might have been another, one I was not fond of, but I did not find any mention of it. So my apologies if I am incorrect. Thank you all for your support and kind words.

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**Another A/N**: Made the change to Gillette's name as you were all correct. Thanks! 


	7. Chapter 7

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse saves all, save my original characters.

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**A/N**: Thanks for pointing out Gillette's first name is Andrew. I made the correction in the previous chapter. And thanks for peeking in on this chapter. I promise it will pick up steam (read into that however you like) soon!

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"So how do you know Elizabeth?" 

The evening had begun with Helen helping James out to the servants' balcony. She had set up a small table and two chairs, but once they were seated it seemed too intimate. They were too close. Their knees touched. Their hands brushed occasionally. All through dinner, she cringed inwardly. As the sun sunk into the water, Helen rose and lit several lanterns, casting the veranda in a warm glow. When she sat again, Helen scooted her chair as far away from the table as was polite. He said nothing, but stared at the waves instead. Helen followed suit and they sat in companionable silence until she interrupted the quiet.

James slid down in his seat slightly, stretching his legs out before him. He had been revisited his memories all evening, so the answer was readily available. "Well, I knew her father in England. I will spare you all that. But when he was appointed governor of Jamaica, I requested to be a part of the Navy contingent escorting Governor Swann and his daughter to Port Royal. As a thank you, he put in a word to have me be stationed at the fort. I have been here every since. Elizabeth was ten when she came over… and I watched her grow from an enthusiastic adolescent to an elegant young lady. I… I became smitten with her. Her father let her grow into a headstrong, wild, willful woman. She was everything… that I wished I could be."

Helen would not admit how much James' words stung. It had been a long time since she had been the object of any man's attentions. As children, Helen had developed more quickly – which brought more attention than her parents knew what to do with – but Elizabeth had the flawless features that turned heads. It took her quite some time, but Helen finally came to terms with walking in Elizabeth's shadow. Except now the past feelings of jealously were resurfacing.

But seeing Elizabeth after so many years caused Helen to see her friend in a new light. Of course Elizabeth was gorgeous, but she also radiated a fierceness, a strength, that caused everyone – male or female – to gravitate towards her. Helen knew she herself was no exception. The outside beauty of Elizabeth caught the eye, but the internal magnificence was what people fell in love with. Although Helen was glad to see that she was still the more amply endowed of the two.

"And you?"

Helen laughed, the sound coming from deep within her belly and having a throaty timbre. _Touché James._ "I met Elizabeth at a birthday party for another girl. I suppose we were around eleven or so. Neither of us liked the girl, so we snuck off to the barn and passed the time by braiding the horses' tails. Much to everyone's dismay, we were best friends from then on. We were inseparable."

"But, you left Port Royal at some point?"

Helen nodded her head. _How long ago was that?_ "When I was fourteen, I was sent away to live with an aunt. My parents thought that civilization, otherwise known as London, would be a calming influence. I was caught… kissing a Navy officer behind the marketplace. We… we fancied that we were in love, but my parents thought that not only was he too old for me, but too common. He was not even ten years older than I was and there was nothing common about him." There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice that startled Helen.

A Navy officer? There was no way that James would not know the man. "May I, may I enquire as to whom you were…?" James hesitated, a blush coloring his cheeks. "To whom you were found with?"

It had not occurred to Helen until that moment that Andrew would know James. Or that James would know Andrew. She and Andrew never once talked about his fellow officers except by first name. Of course, there was not a lot of talking after a certain point in their relationship. "Now that I think about it, you probably know him. His name… his name was Andrew Gillette."

James practically jumped out of his chair. This was the woman that his subordinate pined over? Gillette had introduced them at a party once, but for the life of him, James could not remember Helen. But he could certainly remember the aftermath of her departure. "That was you? Gillette was sick over the loss of you. For…" James paused, at a loss for words. "I cannot even express how long he mourned your departure. I dare say that you were the love of his–."

Helen put up her hand, silencing her dinner companion. "Do not finish that sentence, James. I… that chapter has ended. I know he… that he did not survive a hurricane… And… You know what? I would rather talk about something else."

James nodded his head. "Certainly." Truth be known, he would rather talk about something else, also. Just what, he did not know. But James did feel bad about the small amount of pleasure he felt in knowing he was not the only one hurting.

The crashing of the waves filled the air. Helen moved restlessly in her chair, struggling to find a safe topic, a neutral topic, to bring up. So James knew Andrew. Did that mean that the two of them had met before? Or could she have met him through Elizabeth? It felt as if her memory had holes in it.

Realizing that James was not going to say anything, it fell to Helen to continue the conversation. Unsure of what to say, she fell back on the old standby. "You have a lovely home. I wanted to tell you that earlier."

James pressed his lips together as he nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I bought this house with the intention of Elizabeth Swann living here as my bride."

Helen felt embarrassed to hear James' words, for they were spoken with the hushed tone of confession. She also had no idea that James had intended to propose, or if he did – and was turned down. Taking a big swallow of the wine, Helen was grateful to feel the heat of the liquor running through her veins. Quietly, she said, "I have been exploring the property, too. I… I found the carriage house. And the carriage."

James turned to look at Helen, surprise widening his eyes. "That did not get sold?" He sighed. "I bought that with the intention of taking her out for Sunday drives after church. I did what to spend a lot of money because Elizabeth did not seem like the type who was impressed by material goods. When she turned me down, I had no stomach to use it for anything else."

"You died to save her. You died for her. It was always your intention to put yourself in harm's way so that she would never be harmed." The words were a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

Helen took a deep breath and spoke more freely than she felt polite, but she wanted James to hear the thoughts rattling around inside her head. "James, I am being forward here, but at least I am warning you this time." A smile curved James' lips and caused creases at the corner of his eyes, so Helen pressed on. "Maybe Will is the right person for Elizabeth. I do not know him at all and it has been many years since Elizabeth and I were close. But in the short time I have come to know you, I must say that Elizabeth was a fool." Helen regretted what she said as soon as she said it.

James reached out and grabbed Helen's hand to keep her from moving further away. "Nay, I was I who was the fool. I spent so much time mooning over her like some lovesick schoolboy that I let all others pass right by without ever seeing them. Who knows? If I had not been to focused on Elizabeth, my life may have followed a completely different path."

Helen squirmed under James' intense gaze. She needed to move the attention away from herself. "Come, let us get you to bed. Tomorrow we can see about getting you into a bathtub and discuss what your future holds. Tonight, though, it is late and sleep is beckoning me. So if I am tired, you must be exhausted. I cannot believe you have not succumbed to its pull yet."


	8. Chapter 8

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all save my original characters.

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**A/N:** So sorry for the delay. However, due to my upcoming nuptials, I shall not be posting for at least two weeks. I apologize in advance for the downtime, but even though the wedding is low-key, it is taking more time than I thought. But I promise to come back with a vengeance!

* * *

James woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and energized. Gone was the exhaustion that plagued him the whole previous day. Gone was the mental confusion that marred his memories. Gone was the apprehension of living a life on a second chance. James felt like a new man.

_That is because you are a new man, you idiot. _

Fingers of morning light crept over the windowsill and across the floor, climbing up his bed, tickling at James, enticing him to play. But it was not the rising of the sun that pulled him from sleep, but rather a loud crash from the hallway. There would be no luxuriating in bed and enjoying the knowledge that he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Instead, James leapt from the bed before he could consider the repercussions, but soon discovered the cause of the commotion.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Bent over and engrossed in her task, Helen looked up and eyed James, noting how his frame seemed to fill the doorway. The look on his face was mild amusement crossed with a healthy dose of sleepiness. She herself was mildly horrified at having been caught looking the way she did. Her hair had pulled loose from its knot and hung around her face in twisted ropes. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and pooled in her underarms. Embarrassed, she turned away, refocusing her attention to the tub blocking the hallway.

"I am readying the tub so that you may bathe later. However, I could not find one located anywhere in the servants area, so I brought this upstairs from your quarters. I thought the walk would be too far for you. But it seems, apparently, that you are feeling a bit more spry today."

James looked down, taking in the full length of his person. He was wearing clean cotton pants and a clean cotton shirt, identical to the one's he wore yesterday. What was unusual was the fact that he walked, nay jumped, to the doorway unassisted – and felt nary the need for support. The implications of how different he felt in just one day were just beginning to hit James.

"So it would seem." The tone was dry, but there was a hint of amazement lurking in the hidden depths of James' green eyes.

Helen arched a brow, but if James was not going to comment, then neither would she. Besides, how was she to know that he would have been able to walk to the tub on his own? His expedited recovery with nothing short of miraculous. _Of course, rising from the dead would have to fall into the same category, would it not?_ "Well, breakfast first. Then bathing. I have your food warming downstairs. Let me wrestle the tub into the sitting area and then we shall dine."

James could not believe that he was speaking so openly about such a private subject. And while her candor was refreshing, her audacity was mind-boggling. "You know, when I bathe is really more of my concern than yours."

The tone of his voice made it sound like the subject was closed in his mind, but Helen knew that unclean bodies harbored illness. And while not exactly sure if she could say that James was sick, Helen was not going to take any chances. "I disagree. Not when I was asked to care for you. When Elizabeth asked that I stay with you, she did so knowing that I would not cut corners, nor allow you to do as you liked. I do not know you, so I owe you no allegiance. However, I am deeply indebted to Elizabeth for her kindness, so I shall respect her request. Even if it is not in line with yours."

"But you can see that I am doing much better."

It took all of Helen's willpower not to laugh. And it took every fiber of her being not to look down the length of his body. _Yes, I can see that you are doing better. But you looked good to begin with._ "You sound like a young boy who would rather be out in the dirt, getting dirty, than a high ranking Naval officer. You are not completely well, even if you feel better. One good night's sleep does not a healed man make. Besides, it is not just your health that I am worried about."

James was about to make a smart comment, but then realized the inference Helen was making. A grimace twisted his features, but he remained silent. Even when he helped Helen drag the tub into the sitting area the non-existent servants could use for reading, sewing or however they might like. So he smelled; after being at sea for as long as he had – plus… dying – James realized that there was no way he could have come out smelling like a rose. Once the tub was in place, James sighed deeply and then asked, "Do you mind if we eat outside again?"

Helen quirked an eyebrow upward, but smiled sweetly. The hope in his voice was appealing, winsome. She could almost imagine him as a young boy, asking his mother for something sweet after a meal. "Not at all. In fact, I think that would be quite enjoyable. You are quite homesick for the sea, are you not?" There was no pity in her voice, only understanding.

James mulled over Helen's question for a moment. If circumstances were different, he might find her insight tiresome. But since his initial confusion after waking from his long slumber, Helen felt more like a lifeline than a noose. "I suppose you are right. Here I am in my own house – although I must admit that it has been a long time since I last lived here – and it is the sea that feels like home. Ironic, no?"

Shaking her head gently, Helen had to temper the urge to reach out and touch James' arm, wanting to offer him comfort. She wanted to tell him that he was not alone in his thoughts. That he was not alone. "Not at all. We all have places where we feel most comfortable. I always like to sneak away and read a book under a huge shady tree. I would be happy living deep in a forest with only the woodland creatures for neighbors. Being at sea is the same for you. I understand."

Not sure if what he was about to say was appropriate or going to get thrown back in his face, James leaned against the doorway in a feigned attempt of nonchalance. And while he tried to have his body language appear almost bored, James wanted to speak openly with Helen. "I… I was inappropriate last night."

Helen looked up, surprised. It was true that both spoke more openly than was normal with two people who barely knew each other, but nothing was said that caused her any guilt. "Not at all! It was I who was inappropriate. You were… you were just speaking from the heart. I appreciate your candor. But never lose sight of what is best for you. You cannot treat others well without treating yourself well, first. And again, I might be overstepping my bounds, but it seems as if you always put others first. You can lose sight of what is right for you that way. Now, let us eat as my stomach is protesting how empty it is."

James wanted to protest, but found himself sputtering as Helen finished dragging the tub out of the hall into the sitting room. With a satisfied sigh, Helen brushed her hands together and tucked a loose lock of black hair behind her ear. Smiling at James, she waved a few fingers in a goodbye and disappeared down the hall and around the corner, her footsteps on the stairs fading into silence.

Retreating back into his room, James began to open and close dresser drawers in an attempt to find something proper to wear. He was tired of wearing bedclothes, despite the fact he had only been out of his unconsciousness for a short period of time. But, if he was to bathe, which Helen was harping on, then it would be imprudent to change clothes and then need a new set.

After a few moments, James heard dishes clanking together and he presumed that breakfast was being set. Making his way to the balcony, James was pleased to see that Helen had just finished setting the table and was pouring coffee into a mug.

The meal was simple, but filling. Helen slid out of her seat and began to collect the dishes. As she bent from the waist to collect the items, James could not help but notice that she moved with a grace and fluidity that reminded him of how he imagined a ballet dancer would. _But, of course, most dancers are whores. Nice job Norrington. Thinking of the person who has given up some of their life to help you in less than flattering terms. _

James was so caught up in his thoughts that when Helen spoke, with that knowing look in her eyes, he was embarrassed not only over the fact that he was staring at her form, but also by what she said. "Now, let me heat some water and then you shall bathe."


	9. Chapter 9

**Obligatory disclaimer**: The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N**: I had planned on taking some time off from the story until after the wedding, but writing during all this craziness has proven to keep me sane. Or saner, as the case may be. Again, thanks for your patience. Thanks for for reading. Thanks for all your kind words. Will be back soon!

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"And I suppose you think you shall help me cleanse myself."

What James was unwilling to admit, even to himself, was that he desperately hoped that Helen would indeed slide the bar of soap along his skin. Kneel behind him as he soaked in the bathwater, scrubbing his back, his shoulders, his chest, lower… Not only did he find Helen to be pleasing of the eye, James also found her to burn with a quiet passion that appealed to him in ways other than her good conversational skills and practical thinking.

And while he could predict the forthcoming reply, it had been so long since a woman had grazed her knuckles along the length of his jawbone, slipped her hands along his neck and across his collarbone, ran her fingers over his chest and down his stomach… James closed his eyes as memories of previous encounters washed over him.

Of course, there was the searing kiss that he had bestowed upon Elizabeth on the deck of the Flying Dutchman. There was no way to prove it, but James knew, deep down in his heart, that she had returned his kiss. Had returned his affections. Had poured the same amount of love, desire and longing into the exchange. She had clung to him as he had to her.

And then she was gone, out of his arms. Scurrying across the ropes from the Flying Dutchman to the Empress until James had to cut the lines in an order to save Elizabeth and her crew, sending them plummeting into the water. But she did turn back and look – in hindsight, James thought that it had been rather hopefully – to see if he was to join her. But he had to stay behind and give her time to escape. Only…

_James!_

The one word emoted so much compassion, confusion and despair in that one word that James felt like his heart was breaking all over again. Elizabeth did love him. She had to! Watching him get stabbed by Turner's idiot father had caused her to hesitate. To make her waiver in her decision to let him stay behind.

But if he had died, how did James know about that?

James shook his head, as if the thoughts whirling around inside his brain were too much to comprehend. In light of everything that happened, knowing that Elizabeth was conflicted in the water was a moot point as she had married Will Turner.

But that was when she thought James was dead.

And James had been. But, in a strange turn of events, now he was not. Would that affect Elizabeth's decision?

Bloody Hell! Why was he even thinking about breaking up her marriage? But her husband would be absent for at least ten years… Her absent husband…

Sighing loudly, James slumped down in his chair. He should not be thinking of Elizabeth while he was thinking of Helen. And Helen was his caregiver – practically a nurse to him! And nurses were certainly not objects of desire. There was no way he should be thinking such things about her. About them. About either of them.

James slammed his fist down on the table in an attempt to rid his mind of the images bombarding him, causing the remaining dishes to rattle. He then looked up at Helen, almost startled to realize that she was standing within arm's reach.

Helen arched a brow, the evidence of his interest not slipping past her but she chose to ignore it. Whatever he was thinking, she did not want to know about it. Helen also chose to ignore the internal conflict that raged in his eyes. Everyone had their demons and his were more difficult to understand than most. She pretended that the passage of several moments did not slip past. "You… you seem quite capable of bathing yourself. Am I mistaken?" Good, her voice came out strong and did not tremble.

James smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in humor, but was unable to maintain eye contact. She was direct and to the point, no doubt about that. What he really wanted to say was that he would appreciate the help if she were willing to offer, but instead muttered, "I just figured that if you were so gung ho to have me wash that you had something in mind." There was no way he was going to admit to any physical feelings towards her. Especially not while Helen was living under his roof. And the fact that he was even entertaining such thoughts was very distressing.

Shaking her head, Helen gently squeezed James' shoulder as she walked past him to reenter the house. "Let me draw the water and then I shall return for you. Besides, some time out here alone – just you and the waves – might do you some good."

James turned and watched Helen's retreating back, admiring the straight line of her back before it curved inward at her waist, until she was out of his line of vision. He then returned his gaze to the waves breaking on the rocks below. He had to admit that the view from the servants' quarters was much better than the master bedroom, but when James designed the home he wanted his bedroom windows to be right above the water. That way, the crashing surf would be his lullaby to sleep.

But there had been very few nights when he was able to slumber off to dreamland riding the waves below his open window. After Jack Sparrow was given a day's head start, James had not returned home. And while he knew every inch of the estate like he knew the coordinates of the map of Jamaica, James felt like a stranger in his own house. Which is why he was fine with the sleeping in the quarters Helen had set up.

"Your bath is drawn."

Helen's low voice pulled James from his thoughts. _How long has she been gone? A few minutes? Half past the hour? Longer?_ He turned to see her standing in the open doorway, the soft breeze catching a loose lock of hair, causing it to dance in the wind. The light was filtered through the trees, dappling her skin with pockets of dazzling brightness. She was again wearing a blouse and skirt, this time of the same color – which happened to match the blue of her eyes. The paleness of the fabric caused her skin to look translucent, almost ethereal. For a fleeting instant, James wished he was a painter and he could immortalize the moment forever. Instead, he stood and closed the distance between the two of them.

Standing right before her, James realized that he was nearly a foot taller than his caregiver. Looking down at Helen, he noticed that at the hollow of her throat, her pulse pounded below the surface of her skin so erratically that James was convinced that the serene smile hid the best actress in the world. Could it be that he had an effect on her? "So, if you shall not be tending to me in the tub, where shall you be?"

Helen stepped aside and let James enter the room. If she was not mistaken, Helen thought she caught a note of pout in James' tone. She wanted to tell him that she would love to join him in the tub, but such thoughts were not ladylike, so instead she answered, "Outside, in the hallway. Doing some mending. That way, if you need me, I shall be within earshot."

James had to bite his tongue. _Oh, I think I need you right now. And I am certain that I will need you even more once I am in the tub. Care to join me? _"I appreciate your concern and commitment to my health."

Helen just dipped into a shallow curtsey before passing through the room and closing the door to the hallway behind her. She then turned and leaned against the closed door, tilting her face towards the ceiling, but seeing nothing behind closed eyelids. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Elizabeth warned me that I would find him attractive and that I might even fall for him. And of course I said that it would not be the case. An admiral is supposed to be old and crusty. Why does Elizabeth have to be right, yet again? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_

Once she could hear the water being displaced by James immersing himself in the water, Helen peeled herself off the door and sank into the chair that she had set up earlier. Within moments, she had repaired two ripped seams and was working on darning a sock.

A loud crash brought her head up sharply. A soft groan then followed. Tossing her sewing to the floor, Helen pressed herself against the door, her hand on the handle. Decorum was the only reason she did not barge into the room. Taking a deep breath, Helen forced herself to remain calm.

"James! Are you alright?" _So much for calm._ If James did not answer quickly, Helen was ready to charge into the room.

The voice was weak, but emphatic. "I… I am all right. I just either lost my balance or my legs just buckled out from underneath me. I am not hurt, so please do not worry. Just give me a moment to collect myself and then you may come in."

Water started to seep out from under the door, evidence that the tub had tipped over. Visions of a broken leg bent at an unnatural angle danced through Helen's head. "James, I do not really care about your state of… affairs. If you are hurt, please let me come in and help you up."

When he did not protest, Helen slowly turned the doorknob, waiting for James to dispute her entering the room.

Helen felt her breath catch in her throat and her chest crush itself inward. James lay in a heap on the floor, frantically trying to use the towel to cover as much exposed skin as possible. And while he was completely covered, knowing that James was about as bare as a man could be without being intimate – or alone – made Helen hesitate before entering the room.

His chest was lightly furred, continuing down his abdomen and…

Helen blushed at the thought and turned her head away.

_Do not think about the fact that there is an undressed man sitting before you._

But there James was, a wet towel blanketing his midsection and upper thighs, his limbs all akimbo, panting in pain. His head sagged, as if the weight of it was too much to bear, his wet hair curtaining his features. The tension in his muscles reminded Helen of horse ready to spring over a wall.

She then noticed the tub upset beside him, a pool of water surrounding James. Helen dropped to her knees, oblivious to the water soaking her skirts. With her presence in such close proximity, James frantically tried to cover himself more thoroughly, but the exertion was too much and Helen ended up finishing the task of providing him as much modesty as possible by spreading the towel to cover a wider area.

_Do not think about the fact that there is an undressed man sitting before you._

She brushed back a wet lock of hair that fell across his cheek, her hand lingering on the back of James' neck. "I shall ask again, are you alright?"

_Do not think about the fact that there is an undressed man sitting before you._

James locked his eyes with Helen's, a flame of defiance flickering in their green depths, before he dropped his head in shame. "Yes, I am fine. I do not know what happened, but I am not hurt. Just embarrassed. My muscles seemed to have a mind of their own and decided to do something other than I wanted. Please, let me have a moment and then I shall get up and go to my room."

Helen pursed her lips, as if contemplating his response. "Of course I shall give you a moment, but you will not be getting up unassisted. Let me get you some towels and then you shall use me as a crutch." She then scrambled to her feet and made her way to the door before being stopped in her tracks by a single word.

"No."


	10. Chapter 10

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all save my original characters.

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**A/N: ** Thank you for stopping by. I am sorry that the updates are slow and sporadic, but I hope that will change soon. Also, thank you all for your kind words. And to those of you who dropped kind tidings, the wedding went off like a dream. We were married in our backyard surrounded by family and friends. Small, intimate and laid back. Some thought it should have been more grandiose, but it was perfect for the two of us. Have a safe and happy Fourth!

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It took everything in Helen's power not to plant her hands on her hips and sigh in frustration. James was acting like a spoiled child and it was ever so tempting to shake him hard enough that his teeth rattled loose from his head. Instead, Helen wet her lips and crossed her arms across her chest in the most unladylike manor, hoping to conceal her irritation by appearing aloof or bored.

"No? What are you saying? That if you cannot stand on your own then you shall accept no help and crawl back to your bed? That is a fine option, I must say. A fine option." Helen then let her tone soften. "James, I was asked to care for you. Let me get some towels to mop this spill up. Let me find a robe or something similarly appropriate for you to don. Then, I shall help you to your feet." _So much for keeping the contempt out of my voice. Could I sound any more annoyed?_

"I said no."

_Well, apparently he can sound more annoyed than me._

The emphatic tone in his voice caused Helen to actually feel somewhat sympathetic towards her ward. It was obvious that James was used to being in control of the situation and when the tables were turned on him, panic was the immediate response. Her voice took on a hushed timbre as she dropped her gaze and turned her face away in deference. "James, please explain to me why you do not want my help and I might consider your request. Otherwise, you need my help."

A brow arched in vexation. What gall! The nerve of the woman! James felt the bite of his fingernails into his palms as his hands balled up into fists. Her condescending words were not a good way for Helen to endear herself to him. In fact, James could not remember when he was more angry. "I owe you no explanation. This is my home. And in my home, I may do whatever I like. In fact, if you are here to take of me, that makes you an employee of mine. That said, you shall do as I say."

Helen refused to let James' tone ruffle her feathers. In fact, she was mightily amused by what he had just said. _Out of all of the jobs I have held, this is the least rewarding – and the most aggravating. But also the one where I want to spend as much time with my so-called employer._ "Employees get paid to do as their employers direct. Since I am here without the benefit of salary that makes me… more of an irritating houseguest. That established, I must ask… You shall crawl to your bed if you cannot walk?"

James raked his fingers though his hair, oblivious to the fact that the mere act caused his chest muscles to flex. The spilled bath water was rapidly cooling and he was very aware of how uncovered he was and, thus, how vulnerable his position was on the floor. But even after the passage of several moments, James found his legs not responding. In all his years, this was the most frustrating situation he had ever found himself in.

Although, if he was going to be so underdressed in front of Helen, would it not be fair for her to offer to place herself in the same circumstances?

Helen had to force herself not to look at James' moving limbs and torso and instead concentrate on the bitterness in his voice. "What I do is of my concern, not yours."

Swallowing hard, Helen then pressed her lips together until a white line formed. The walls of the room were suddenly much closer than they were just a few moments ago. As James moved, so did his towel. _Do I point the impropriety out? If he moves just a bit more, this discussion will turn in a direction neither of us wants._ Instead, Helen decided to try and take control back. "Actually, I beg to differ. Elizabeth asked me to care for you while you convalesced."

The velocity with which his words burst forth startled Helen. "But she did not ask me!"

James dropped his head and curled into himself, as if the thought of either Elizabeth or Helen was too much to bear. His breath as ragged and fury caused him to shake. Or, Helen mused, James was cold. Regardless, approaching him at that moment was not an option. In fact, Helen felt her fingers curl around the doorframe, as if looking for an option to escape.

But Helen remained silent. So there was the crux of it – James felt that all control had been taken away from him. He was given no choice in the matter. A man of such high raking in the Royal Navy was used to giving orders, not taking them. One did not get promoted to such a position as Admiral in such a short amount of time by lacking ambition… and a strong work ethic. And not working – or doing – was slowly killing James.

Which was ironic since he had just come back from the dead.

But looking at James now, wet hair curling past his uncovered shoulders, his bare chest heaving and long, unclothed limbs sprawling about him, Helen felt her stomach tighten. Before her was a beaten man. His own body was his enemy and neither James nor Helen seemed to know why.

But the fact that he was attractive, was dressed – or undressed – in such a manner, and was obviously brilliant caused Helen to reconsider her offer to Elizabeth. Helen knew she had been warned, but it was going to be nigh on impossible to remain detached from her grumpy charge. _I would be equally upset – or more so – if I were him. Not knowing what was going on or why. In fact, he is absorbing the information much better than I would._

Helen picked up another towel and handed it to James, who took it without comment. Squatting before her ward, her words were soft. "I am sorry. You are absolutely right. What would you like for me to do? This is your house and here I have been, telling you what to do. It should be the other way around. So tell me what you would like for me to do."

Wishing his words came out with more ferocity than sadness, James draped the towel across his shoulders and sighed. "What I would like is a robe and chair. And privacy. And as soon as possible."

Biting her tongue, Helen nodded her head silently and exited the room without a word. _He hates me. He is going to banish me. He is unable to care for himself, but would rather be alone than have my help. And I cannot blame him one bit. I hate me, too. It seems that I can do nothing right. _

Helen returned with a robe and draped it over the seat of a cane back chair that she moved close enough to James that it touched his thigh. She then dropped several towels on the floor to absorb the water that had formed a small lake around James. Once James looked like he was floating on a white cloud, Helen retreated back to the door to the balcony.

"If you need me, I shall be within earshot. Give a holler if you need assistance. Otherwise, I am giving you the privacy you requested. I… I apologize for being a nuisance. I just… I just do not think you are in a position to care for yourself without help. But, you must be cold, so I shall retire to the waves."

James watched Helen turn away from him and suddenly felt so alone. "Wait!"

Helen paused a long moment, curious as to whether James would talk to her back, but when no further dialog followed she pivoted on her heel. An eyebrow rose in curiosity as she waited for James to continue. She did not have long to wait.

"Actually, I… I need to apologize. I am tired. And embarrassed. And confused. But I want to thank you for all your patience and help. Let me don this robe and pull myself up into this chair. Then, if it is all right with you, I shall call for your assistance to help get me cross the hall to my bed." The look on James' face was earnest and unwavering. Helen felt her breath hitch and she wet her lips as an immediate reaction. The next words she spoke would be very important.

"James, as I said, if you need me, please give a shout. I am here, at your disposal. You must be exhausted, so you might want to consider a nap once we get you into bed." Helen paused, her mind going places it should not. _Stop thinking about him in bed._ "Or at least a rest and read a good book. But I highly suggest that at some point we discuss the parameters of our relationship when you feel more up to it. That way, once we hash things out, I will not step on your toes any longer. Or, at least, keep the damage to a minimum. So, in my absence, mull over what you would like for me to do versus not do for you."

_What I would like for you to do I cannot say._ James was unable to speak, for sentiment and emotion washed over him, so he just nodded his head. He was unable to articulate himself for fear that Helen would be able to hear more than just what he was saying. But it was obvious that Helen was waiting for a response, so James said, "Do not go too far; I shall need you momentarily."

Helen nodded her head and stepped out onto the veranda, closing the door so that it only stood open a crack. She then leaned against the railing, the wind pulling at her hair and skirt. The tide was coming in and with that, the fisherman and their wares. The warm nights and sweltering days were a welcome change from the cold, wet years she spent in London. And while the city had much to do and even more to see, it was the lazy days of the Caribbean that Helen longed for. _It is so nice to be back._

"Helen? If you have a moment, I would appreciate your help."

Helen smiled and went back into the house. It took some maneuvering, as well as Helen dragging the chair with them because James needed several breaks as they walked the distance back to his quarters. After depositing James on the bed in a most unceremonious manner, Helen let him arrange himself as she went over to pour her ward a mug of water. After setting it within reach, Helen said, "Well, you need to get some rest. I am going to finish setting your room to rights. Depending on how you feel when you wake, I think moving you into the master bedroom would be the best idea. But that is a long walk, so we shall see."

Reaching out and grabbing her wrist, James stilled Helen's departure. He then let his head fall back, his eyes closed in exhaustion. "How much did you see?"

Helen paused. "Excuse me?"

James let go of her wrist and turned his face towards the wall. "Do not make me have to explain myself. How much–."

Helen interrupted, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. "I understood what you were asking, but am unsure as to why. James, I admit that I have not been around a man in such undress in a very long time, but I assure you that I saw nothing improper. Yes, I saw more than you might be comfortable with, but I saw nothing that should cause you undue distress." The smile curving her lips brought a blush to James' cheeks when he turned back to face her.

"So you saw nothing… incriminating?" James hated the waver in his voice.

Helen's smile twisted into a smirk. "Why James, it almost seems like you are hoping that I saw something."


	11. Chapter 11

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all save for my original characters.

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**A/N:** Less angst, my lovelies. I figured ol' James needed a break. ;) Again, thank you for taking a peek.

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"And just what are you inferring?" James was fighting waves of exhaustion, but Helen was assuming way more than was proper. So he struggled not to succumb to the land of slumber, although it was a losing battle. Forcing himself to sit up again was requiring more energy than he had. 

Helen smiled down at James, wanting nothing more than to cup his cheek in her hand. Instead, she dropped into the chair next to the bed. "James… I infer nothing. You were the one who kept pestering me, asking what I saw. Which was nothing. Wait… I take that back. I saw your bare legs. And bare torso. So yes, I saw more than either us might be comfortable with. But I saw nothing more incriminating." _Do not mention that you bathed him while he was unconscious._ "So, get some rest. You can barely keep your eyes open. I shall be back to check on you in a bit."

James silently nodded his head. If she said that no more had been seen, then he had to believe her. The tiny pang of disappointment surprised him, but James quickly dismissed the emotion due to the fatigue he was experiencing. "Then I shall look forward to seeing you. Maybe you should go rest also. I know keeping up with me has to be taxing."

_You can say that again._

Helen rose from the chair, unable to keep herself from brushing back a stray lock of hair off his forehead as she did so. _Helen, you need to keep your hands to yourself. Such liberties are unbecoming and highly improper. What ever shall he think about you?_

_What has he not thought already?_

"James, it has been my pleasure to help you. I would not be here if I felt otherwise. Now, as I said, I shall be back in a bit. There is water within reach if you are thirsty. A few books over there if you get bored. The window is open so that you can listen to the crashing surf. And I will be within yelling distance if you need me." The door softly clicked as Helen shut the door behind her.

When James awoke, he was surprised that not only had he actually fallen asleep but that it was nearly dark. An amber glow tinged the night sky, setting the whole world in a fading blush. How could Helen let him sleep for so long? Why it was only mid-afternoon when he crawled between the sheets!

"Helen?" James spoke so softly that he was unsure if his words would carry to her ears.

There was a rustling sound in the far corner of the room, followed by the sound of a match being struck. The room became aglow in soft light as Helen touched the match to a lantern's wick. Her lips were curved into a smile as she closed the distance between them. "So, you finally decided to wake up. I was beginning to worry. I am relieved to see that you are well."

James pushed himself up into a sitting position, shoving a pillow behind his shoulders. "How could let me sleep for so long?" As soon as the words were spoken, James hated the tone of accusation staining his words.

A peal of laughter was Helen's immediate response. She then sank into the chair next to the bed and poured James a glass of water. Handing it to him, she asked, "How could I wake you up? How could you sleep through all the noise I made? I tried and tried to rouse you, but you were out cold. Now after all that time, you must be ravenous."

James took the goblet without comment, his mind racing. After taking a sip, James turned his gaze on Helen. "What time is it?" His brow was furrowed in concern. Why would she think he would be so hungry?

"Nearing five in the morning."

His eyes widened in surprise. It was almost three in the afternoon when he went to bed. "I... I slept for that long?"

Helen's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. She had been relieved when James had drifted off, as there was obviously more to his recovery than it seemed. If he slept for that long, it was obvious that James needed the rest, so why was he so upset? "You tell me. You may have woken up before, when I was not around, but–."

"No, I have not. But I did not feel that tired," James interrupted, his tone acid. He shook his head in disbelief. He slept through the late afternoon and evening, as well as the night! What was going on?

"And when you woke up yesterday morning, you felt well enough to spring out of bed when I dropped the tub. You will just have to get used to your body's reactions to life after death. I know it is frustrating, but do not expect anything and you shall not be disappointed. I know it is easier said than done, but just take each moment as it comes. Now, do you want breakfast?"

Helen was right. Since it was impossible to have expectations, then anticipation was going to be his downfall. And while he did not like having to rely on others, James had to admit that his nursemaid was not only no-nonsense, but intelligent and practical. _Whoever she is married to or ends up marrying has a force to be reckoned with on their hands._

James pretended to mull over the question before breaking into a grin, his teeth blinding white. "Absolutely."

And so the days slid from one into another. The two settled into a comfortable companionship once James understood that Helen was not trying to undermine his authority and once Helen realized that she should give James options rather than commands. Each began to forget that there was life before having the other as a presence.

One afternoon, Helen ducked her head into James' study, where he had been studying maps and said, "I am going down to the beach to search for oysters. I thought they would make for a good dinner. Would you care to join me?"

James set aside the chart he had been pouring over and smiled at Helen. While neither one of them said anything specifically to the other, he knew that Helen was still uncomfortable with the idea of leaving him to his own devices. And while no other incidents of his body betraying him had occurred, James was amused by how protective Helen was. But while she said nothing blatant about wanting to keep an eye on him, James knew that Helen would find something in the house to delay her excursion and put off collecting oysters until he agreed to join her.

"Low tide is past, but there is a cove not far from here that might be fruitful. I should have some buckets in the kitchen. If not, in the carriage house there should be several. Although I cannot vouch for their cleanliness."

Helen chuckled and disappeared from the room. Thumps fading away indicated that she was bouncing down the hallway. After a few moments, James could faintly hear items being displaced as Helen rummaged through closets in the keeping room. A triumphant cheer announced Helen's success. Thumps got louder as Helen raced back to the room.

"I found the buckets," Helen announced triumphantly. "I tucked a loaf of bread and some cheese in one and a flagon of water in the other. In case we are out there longer than we anticipate."

James rose from the table and claimed one of the buckets as his own before taking Helen by the elbow, leading her though the house into the fresh air and sunlight.

The afternoon quickly slid into evening and before long, the sun began to dip past the water's edge. The afternoon had indeed produced huge results quickly and soon Helen went from collecting oysters to frolicking by the water's edge. Helen stood still and watched the ocean turn to liquid fire. James looked up from his reading and admired the silhouette Helen created when the sun backlit her, creating a golden halo that framed her very eye-catching shape. His gaze boring into her caused Helen to turn and smile back at James.

"Would you like it if I made a fire and stewed the oysters and we ate under the setting sun?"

James had just been thinking that he did not want to call it a day and head back to the house. The weather was delightful and watching Helen chase the waves was sheer pleasure. The idea of a bonfire to welcome the velvet night sounded much better than any alternative options James could come up with. "I cannot think of a better way to spend the evening."

"Well then, if you do not mind, you can collect the firewood while I go back to the house to get dishes, utensils and blankets."

"Sounds like a great plan. I will see you soon."

Helen returned to see that not only had James stacked wood for a fire, but that he had dragged a, relatively, straight log for the two of them to lean against so that they could watch the sun continue its decent. Helen was doubly impressed to see that James had also hollowed some of the sand out to make leaning against the log more comfortable. After she chastised James for pushing himself physically, Helen made him enjoy the fruit of his labor while she got dinner started.

Once they were settled into place, enjoying a fine meal of stewed oysters, bread and wine, Helen dragged out a blanket to cover them. She had set one down earlier for them to sit upon in order to keep a minimum of sand from getting into their clothes, but now the evening was taking on a chill. If she had thought of it more clearly, Helen would have brought each of them a blanket but realized her mistake too late. She would just have to keep a proper amount of distance between them and pray that the admiral's hands did not take advantage of the situation.

Dinner was eaten in comfortable silence and once plates were set aside, Helen pulled out her last surprise of the evening – an unopened bottle of rum. She produced it proudly and presented it to James with a flourish.

James accepted the bottle without comment. The last time he had consumed rum, in any quantity, was when he was still in the employ of one Captain Jack Sparrow. James' tenure as a pirate left something to be desired, but at that moment, he found that part of his past immensely amusing. A chortle skated past his lips and when Helen bestowed him with a curious look, James took a swig straight from the bottle before explaining, "I was once a pirate." He then handed the bottle to Helen.

_And I was once a countess._

Helen took the bottle and sniffed the contents dubiously. She had brought it as a nightcap for James, not intending to partake, but to refuse his offer would be considered rude. Closing one eye, she looked down the neck and wondered if she dare drink the amber contents. Realizing that James was waiting for the alcohol, Helen decided that life was too short. Taking a deep breath, Helen took a gulp, then sputtered as it burned its way down to her stomach. When she recovered, Helen asked. "Were you a good one?"

_You are, without a doubt, the worst pirate I have ever heard of._

"No, not at all. I was a very good drunk, but a terribly bad pirate." To emphasize his point, James took several swallows of the liquor before handing the bottle back to Helen.

Wanting nothing more to do with the rum, Helen pretended to drink after asking, "But I heard that pirates drink a lot. Is that true?"

James furrowed his brow in thought. What did that have to do with anything? "Well, yes… I suppose so."

Helen handed the bottle back to James and laughed. "So if they drink a lot – and you were a very good drunk – then that did not make you a very good pirate?"

James shook his head in disbelief before taking a quick chug. He then tilted his head back and closed his eyes before staring up at the twinkling stars dancing above them. If their roles had not already been solidified, an evening on the beach under a clear night sky would have been romantic. As it was, James was not sure if the alcohol was impairing his thought process or if it was the proximity of his caregiver. "Your logic may not be sound, but I cannot argue with you for fear that I will get more confused than I already am."

"Blame not me for your confusion. Blame the rum."

"For the record, I am not drunk." James grinned right along with Helen as she laughed at his slurred words.

"But neither are you sober. Now, you know that the two of us sitting out here, alone, drinking vast amounts of rum is highly improper. And while the damage is done, I do not wish for us to fall asleep out here and risk either the wrath of the rising sun or snakes seeking warmth during the night. Besides, a bed sounds much more comfortable than this log."

_Are we sharing yours or mine?_

James twisted so that he could look at Helen better. "Before we go back up to the house, I want you to know that I have made a life-altering decision."

Helen felt her heart skip a beat and her breath hitch in her chest. "Oh?"

James' teeth were beacons of light in the darkness as his lips curved into a smile. "Tomorrow I shall go to the fort to resign my commission. I would like it immensely if you would join me."


	12. Chapter 12

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N:** Thank you all so much for your patience with this story and for all your wonderful comments.

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As Helen lay in bed, trying to will her body to sleep, images of the previous evening danced through her head, refusing to fade. It was late, but her mind would not rest. For hours, Helen had tried to convince herself that she was asleep, only to have an eye pop open to see if it was still dark outside. Sighing, she rolled from her back to her side, punching her pillow to help fluff it – and vent some of her pent up frustration. 

The evening ended soon after James requested that they go to the fort the next day so that he could resign his commission – an action that Helen found rather mind-boggling. Why on earth would he go to the same people who already thought he was dead, only to tell them that he was still alive?

And why did James have to lean in so close when he was speaking, causing his breath to ghost across her skin, sending shivers up her spine?

There was nothing else either of them could think to draw out the evening any further. It was late. Their bellies were full. A few oysters had produced pearls, eliciting whoops of excitement from the pair. The rum bottle was empty. Short of talking until dawn – or not talking – there was nothing else to do but call it a night.

In hindsight, Helen realized that she had set up an evening that was ripe for romance. A dark stretch of beach. A roaring fire. Two people snuggling under a blanket. Sharing a bottle of rum. Why, she was practically inviting the admiral to seduce her. _Or did he think I was trying to seduce him?_

_And was he disappointed that I did not?_

Helen sat up, realizing that sleep was not forthcoming. Not while she let James invade the recesses of her mind. Swinging her legs off the bed, she slid from her covers, dragging her blanket with her, and glided over to the window, across the cool wooden floors, hoping the sound of the waves would sooth her frayed nerves.

Until Helen saw James standing on the outcropping of rock before the land dropped away to the sandy beach.

_I see I am not the only one who cannot sleep._

Intrigued, Helen settled into the chair positioned in front of the window, kneeling on the seat, her arms resting on the windowsill, her chin settling onto her crossed arms. His hair was loose, the wind whipping it all around, and his torso bare. The thin cotton trousers rippled as the wind tugged at the fabric. But James seemed completely oblivious as his head was tilted upwards towards the heavens, his features slack in near reverence. His arms were spread wide, as if he somehow trying to absorb the surrounding elements.

Seeing James half-dressed now did not make Helen's heart race nor make her mind cloud with concern. Seeing him embrace the sky and the sea made her wish him back to the deck of a ship, commanding his subordinate officers. Being tethered to the land was going to slowly kill him the same as Bootstrap quickly did. And while she felt no pity for the man, it dawned on Helen that James was a prisoner in his own home.

Helen had to wonder if this was the first time James had gone out to see the water when sleep was elusive. She thought she had been sleeping lightly, listening in her sleep in case there was any movement or calls from his room, but now Helen was not so sure. Especially when she banished him to his master bedroom.

Rubbing her eyes in exhaustion, she wondered what kept James from sleeping. Was it the same reason that kept her from slipping off to slumber or was it something else that weighed down, even heavier, upon his shoulders? Heavier than knowing the man who had slept across the hall, and now slept on the other side of the house, was no longer no longer an invalid in her mind – but rather a man. A very virile man. And that was a huge distinction.

A man. With piercing green eyes over which a brooding brow sat. When he stared at her, Helen got the impression that James saw nothing else. Nothing peripheral. Being the sole focus of his attention still made Helen's heart flutter, but she repeatedly told herself that it was just his manner. That she should not read more into it than his intensity being a part of his personality.

Helen had urged him to vacate the servants' quarters and sleep in his own bed – an action that James felt was impractical but acquiesced in order to keep the peace. Helen knew that he did not understand her adamant stance, but having that extra distance between them helped make her relationship with him seem more professional… more temporary.

Standing over the water was the man she had moved back to Jamaica to help be reborn, to help adapt to his new lifestyle, to help become a better version of who he once was…

But was she really helping with that or was she holding him back, treating him like cuckolded… husband?

_We need to figure out a plan for him – and how going to Fort Charles fits into the plan, I do not know – but once the plan is figured out, I can let Elizabeth know I fulfilled my end of the bargain. When I got into this agreement, I planned on drawing it out as long as possible, but now I think I need to step out sooner rather than later lest I never want to leave._

When James turned and began to make his way back to the house, Helen decided to retreat back to her bed. It was late. Morning would come sooner than she wished. And looking out at the water now would only make her think of James more.

The next morning, Helen felt out of sorts and her mood reflected her lack of sleep. She got up and made breakfast, but not without managing to spill water all over the floor and chipping a plate. Muttering an oath that would make a sailor blush, Helen sat down in an unceremonious heap on the floor and sighed heavily. A day at the beach with a good book might untangle her disposition, but knowing they would be traveling into town to speak with the higher ups at the fort kept the proverbial black cloud over her head.

It was not that she did not want them to leave the confines of him home. Quite the contrary. No other incidents had occurred where James lost use of his limbs, so some exercise would benefit his underused legs.

But it was going to be implied that she was James' mistress. An unmarried man in the company of an unmarried woman that he was not attempting to woo and was unrelated to n any way only meant one thing. Either she was employed by the man, and the connotation also had its own set of derogatory implications, or she was sleeping with the man. And while she did not plan on staying in Port Royal any longer than necessary, Helen did not like the idea of being perceived as wanton when she was not.

_Now, if I were actually his mistress, then I am pretty sure that I would be proud of the fact. Although such thoughts are highly inappropriate. But seeing as I am not, then I think this is a bad idea. Besides, how do you resign your commission when they think you are already dead? Bloody Hell, if they think that, then they are right!_

"Good morning."

Helen had been pushing – shoving – her hair out of her face when James walked into the keeping room. Nothing seemed to be going right for her, but he looked as refreshed and relaxed as a mid-morning shower followed by the sun and warm breezes.

"I suppose so," Helen replied. There was a time, very recently, where she would have been embarrassed at the state she was found in. She would have scrambled to her feet, stammering out an apology. But now, after the passage of days bleeding into weeks, Helen figured that James knew her as well as he was going to and should expect such behavior from her. And if it was a surprise, then he was going to be initiated into her world one way or another.

He seemed nonplussed, as if finding his nursemaid sitting on the floor was an everyday occurrence. James entered the room and crossed over to the table and poured himself a mug of fresh squeezed orange juice. Having Helen in his life had certain perks. The food for one. James could not remember ever eating better, even if the meals were simple. And the scenery for another. Despite the dour look on her face, Helen still looked like an angel. A fact that he opted to appreciate silently. "What is there not to enjoy? The weather is perfect. My sleep last night was sound. The company joining me this morning is exquisite. And I am going to go snub my nose at the military. What could be better?"

Helen took this as an excuse to bring up the afternoon plans – and her concerns. "So explain to me why am I going with you. Why we are going at all. Last night it sort of made sense, but today the reason eludes me."

James smiled, his eyes twinkling with delight, ignoring the sulking tone in her voice. "Why, my dear, if I go to the fort alone, I will be perceived as sad and pathetic. If I bring you with me, I shall be viewed as a cad, yes, but not as a sad or pathetic creature. Despite actually being one…"

"James!" Helen was not fond of the idea that in order for him to be perceived as a cad, she would be perceived as a strumpet. But she did not like the self-depreciating tone or the fact that he was fishing for a compliment. However, he had gone through more than most and Helen was not without compassion. But the look on his face was amusement, not self-pity.

"Helen, believe me, I know my current lot in life is that of a very sad man. I have no income. Have no idea where I will get an income. Have no idea from moment to moment if my body will betray me. And have no idea why you keep putting up with me day after day. But if I walk in there with you on my arm and am able to surprise them with the sudden appearance of a supposedly dad man, than I think I might have some leverage."

Sighing, Helen sank into a chair, her cheek resting in her hands. "For what? I think that is why I am so confused. Leverage for what? Why are you going to the fort? You have your chance at a clean break, a fresh start. Why go back to the very people you wish to disassociate from? I think you should just concentrate on getting better, if that is what we should call it, and figure out what this new lease on life holds for you."

James took a sip of orange juice and quietly regarded Helen over the rim of the mug. Her concern was heartwarming, but misplaced. "Because the Navy is all I know. I tried to live my life without the Navy and was unable. I ended up a disgusting and vile drunk. But now, with you to help me, I think that I might be able to do it. I just need to get closure on my old life before beginning the next phase. Besides, their guilt might segue into severance pay. I doubt that I will get a pension, but they might try to buy my silence. At least, that is what I hope."


	13. Chapter 13

**Obligatory disclaimer: **The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N:** Thank you once again for taking a peek around.

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"And what will you do if they do not accept your resignation? What will you do if they make you continue on as an Admiral? Or worse… demote you because of the passage of time that has elapsed?" Helen meant not to be a shrew but she found the idea of James marching into the fort and demanding any sort of financial compensation not only inappropriate, but also downright inane. If he was not dead, then would they not think that he had abandoned him men, his duties? That he was a deserter? The whole thing could only end badly. 

James stopped drinking his orange juice and lowered the mug to the tabletop. What indeed. He had not entertained such a notion. There were times when Helen was such a godsend. Then there were times – like this – when he just wanted to wring her neck.

Of course, she brought up a valid point. Which irritated him to no end.

He silently appraised her. Helen's hair was a mess; an ebony nest of curls escaped from her haphazardly arranged hair bun and cascaded down her back. Her skirt was disheveled, with flour dusting the fabric and water darkening the hem. The look on her face was sheer annoyance. Despite everything, or possibly because of it, James could not help but think that she looked magnificent and smiled as he replied, "Well, I do not know. But… but they cannot deny me! Not after what I have been through."

Helen had to stifle a laugh. The fact that he was so sure of himself was wonderful, but his positive outlook was misplaced. He was better off with the Navy thinking that he was dead than to try to recoup past monies. She just did not think that they would let James walk away unscathed. Even if they did accept that he was badly hurt and only recently was able to be himself, Helen mused that there would be consequences for letting Elizabeth and her crew escape.

"Of course they can. If they think that you tried to desert, and failed, only to come crawling back, then where will you be? In the brig, or whatever they call it! You want a fresh start? Then sell those pearls we found. Sell this house. Do what you want. Be who you want. You can finally be your own person… not who others tell you to be. Close the door on that part of your life and open a new door to your future. Besides, letting Elizabeth and her crew go was… traitorous! That in itself would have cause for repercussions."

Seeming to collapse into the chair he was standing next to, James buried his head in his hands. It all so sounded so reasonable, but it also sounded terrifying. "That is easier said than done, Helen. As I said earlier, the Navy is all I know." The words came out as a harsh whisper.

But Helen was emphatic. Covering his hand with hers, she leaned forward and made James look her in the eyes. "No, you know sailing. You know ships. You know the sea. The Navy gave you discipline and skills. Both of which you can take to other professions. There is more to your life than fussy wigs and uncomfortable uniforms. You can join a whaling crew. You can buy a merchant vessel and move product from one port to the next. You can–."

"I can agree with you to cut my losses and not march into Fort Charles to ask for any stipend," James interrupted. _Why does she have to be right? It seems like she is always right. And why does she have to touch my hand? I can think of nothing else._

Wetting his lips, James forced himself to digest what Helen had said and respond. He then took a deep breath before continuing, "I did not think it all the way through, I agree. But, I cannot stay here for the rest of my days. If not to the fort, then I think that a trip to town is in order. So we may pick up supplies and part with the pearls. I have no idea where or how you have acquired the food and supplies that we have used so far. Nor do I wish to know, lest I feel guilt that I was unable to provide them myself. However, I think the suggestion of selling the pearls was a stroke of genius. And while your company is incomparable, the scenery has not changed for way too long. And with the weather looking to stay rather mild, I cannot think of a better day to see what Port Royal has to offer."

Narrowing her eyes, Helen regarded the man sitting across the table from her. James said he slept well, but she knew otherwise… even though he looked as refreshed as one who had slept for a year. He went from being adamant to going to the Fort and showing them that was indeed alive to realizing her perspective of the situation was more practical. But his letting go was so… rapid.

His dark, chestnut hair was pulled back into a queue and his clothes were simple, but Helen was able to see him as he saw himself – a career Navy officer. The silly tricorn, the cloud of white curls perched over his dark tresses, the dark blue uniform offset by gold braid and brass buttons. Leaving all that he knew behind was not something Helen envied, but she did not want there to be any regret on his part. And going to the Fort would be cause for regret.

_Is he humoring me?_

"I think you will make more money off the pearls than you would from any severance the Navy could give you. After all, one of the pearls I would think to be extremely rare. Do you know how uncommon a black pearl is?"

…black pearl.

The Black Pearl.

Jack Sparrow.

The hurricane.

Life ceasing to exist as James knew it.

Realizing that Hen was wanting an answer, James pulled himself back to the present moment and muttered, "I cannot vouch for how rare they are. In my years, there is one Black Pearl that has crossed my path more times than I care to recall." Realizing that he sounded quite irate, James rose from his seat and made himself a plate of food. Speaking over his shoulder, he continued, "However, I think that our pearls should fetch a fair amount. Now, let me finish eating and then what say you? A trip into town sound interesting?"

Helen nibbled on a corner of a piece of toast, quietly assessing the man she was currently sharing quarters with. Of course the walls were closing in on him. Of course he wanted to go into town. But there were things to reflect upon…

"What shall we do if your legs give out on you? Or if you are recognized? That is what concerns me the most. I would presume that in the not so recent past, you were a very prominent member of the Port Royal community. I highly doubt that you look much different than you did when you wore a Naval uniform rather than laymen clothing. Before we go, I think we should consider both scenarios."

James' lips pursed in thought. While he did not like to admit defeat, he had to admit that Helen presented situations worth considering.

Returning to his chair, James nodded his head as he slid into the seat. "Well, town is not that far. I built the house within a short sprint of the fort and Port Royal proper is just on the other side of that. I am not concerned about my legs betraying me, as it has been over a week since they gave out. But being recognized by the townspeople is a valid point… As Commodore of the fort, I carried out executions of the condemned. I was revered for my heroics in battle. I was wooed by parents as a potential bridegroom for their unmarried daughters–."

"I get the idea," Helen interrupted, a note of irritation creeping into her voice. And while she begrudged James very little, the hint of bragging was slightly irksome. "You were well known and easily recognized. Which… if we were looking for some sort of help, might be a good idea. But help is the last thing we need right now. Except of the financial kind. Now, what is your suggestion to remedy the problem of you being almost instantly recognizable?"

His shoulders rose and fell like shifting mountains. "I have none. Any suggestions on how to alter my appearance would be greatly appreciated."

Tapping her finger against her lips, Helen regarded James with a calculated eye. How indeed? Several days – nay, weeks – growth of beard would go a long way in helping their cause, but since that was not an option there were few options. "Well, there is no changing the way you look, but there is the possibility of obscuring your features. A wide brimmed hat worn low on your forehead. It is too warm for a scarf and high-collared coat. The problem is your facial structure is just so distinctive. However, if people think you look like James Norrington, then maybe we can tell them that you are his cousin. But do not use the normal tone of your voice, as it is also highly distinctive. Lower it. Raise it. Just alter it. And turn your head away, as if you have to cough or sneeze. I will step in and redirect the conversation. But I think it would be best if we waited until dusk, right before the shops close. They will be in a hurry to get us out the door that they will pay less attention to us and more on closing the sale."

Which would not help them make the best deal on the pearls, but which was the lesser of two evils? Possibly less money or having someone recognize James? _Maybe this is a horribly bad idea…_

James' next words startled Helen. "And will you tell people that you are my wife?"

_What?_

"Uhm, I was thinking I could be your sister." Helen inwardly cringed at the lack of humor in her words, hating the apathetic tone that edged what she said. _Sister? Why did I suggest sister? And is that a look of disappointment pulling at the corner of his eyes?_

_She suggested being a sister instead of a wife? Pity._

Smiling ruefully, James made his way to the doorway of the keeping room, leaning against the frame. "Then let me go raid my wardrobe and see what I can find. If we are cousins of James Norrington, then we should be in mourning, correct?"

"That depends. Are we missing you?" The twinkle in her eyes was pure mischief.

James shot Helen a withering glare. "And I suppose you think you are amusing. Fine, be not in mourning, but I shall pine his passing with enough enthusiasm for the two of us. Now, I shall go see what is non-military appropriate wear for a day in town. However, I have a few things I would like to work on and we agreed to go out later in the day, so I will meet you in say… six hours hence?"

"Six hours," Helen agreed.

When Helen descended the staircase, she was surprised to find James waiting for her. At the sound of her tread on the stairs, James stood from the bench by the front door and pivoted to watch Helen walk towards him. His breath caught in his throat as Helen moved closer and closer. A dove gray dress, edged with black piping, made her blue eyes sparkle and her raven tresses gleam. A hesitant smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she silently absorbed the look of incredulity on James' face.

"Do I look… inappropriate?"

Resisting the urge to scoff, James took a step forward and took Helen's hand in his as she stepped off the staircase onto the floor. He bent over her hand and lightly kissed her knuckles in an attempt to act gallant, making light of his clothing. An extremely wide-brimmed hat and cape obscured most of his features. The long, unbound hair covered the rest.

"That is certainly not the word I would have chosen. In fact, I do not think you could look more appropriate. And while I am not trying to acquire the limelight, I cannot help but think that since you have put forth so much effort in your appearance, we should somehow... celebrate. After we do business, then I want us to dine out. If we can find someplace where I can be faced away from everyone. But I feel drunk on freedom. Come. Shall we go?" James then pressed a basket into Helen's other free hand.

_Ah, for shopping._

Helen refused to let her reactions show in her features. The kiss was meant to be playful, but it radiated warmth in places that made her cheeks burn. And the hat and cape made him look… debonair and quite dashing. But seeing so much of him covered made her heart race. It was almost as if seeing less of him made James seem more dangerous.

And exciting.

_Stop. Stop it. Stop it right now. _

With a grin that could split her face in two, Helen nodded her head. "We shall." She practically glowed as James continued to hold her hand and lead her out the door.

James had been correct; the journey into town had passed quickly. They went the way of the beach rather than hugging the perimeter of the fort so to avoid as many people as possible. And when they did run into Port Royal residents, no one paid them any mind.

Before they wandered into the commercial district, James made sure that Helen did not get separated from him by placing her hand in the crook of his arm. At the intimate gesture, Helen was unable to keep the surprise from registering in her features. With a sharp look, she took in the physical contact and then looked up at James. There was no humor in his eyes, no smile on his lips. The gaze that met her own was sheer earnestness.

"I refuse to lose you in this crowd. Now, give me the basket and lead the way."


	14. Chapter 14

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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The afternoon and evening fell into a perfect alignment. They stepped into the jewelry store where James had originally purchased Elizabeth's engagement ring, knowing the jeweler specialized in stonesetting. As Helen and James had hoped, not only was the jeweler interested in purchasing the pearls, claiming the color and size were superb, but was also eager in getting them out of the store. No real eye contact was made with the couple. 

Money in hand, they made quick work of purchasing food items to carry them over the next few days. James was impressed as he watched Helen haggle over the price of bread, cheese, dried meat, fruit and vegetables. While he would have gone with either the original price quote or just under, Helen managed to question, cajole and flirt her way to pricing that was much easier to bear. Once the shopping list was complete, with purchases in hand, the only thing left to do was find themselves a nice meal.

In the fading light, Helen wet her lips in nervousness as once again James placed her hand in the crook of his arm. She had to remember how to breathe again as he led them into a pub, amongst the raucous patrons who were well into their cups, before setting up residence at a table near the kitchen. Helen had to repeatedly tell herself to ignore the fact that she could feel the muscles of his arm flex underneath her hand. She knew James was concerned at being recognized, but Helen was concerned that would not be able to think about anything else other than those muscular arms wrapped around her.

As requested, they were seated at a table where James could sit with his back to the room. Normally, he would want to be able to take a visual inventory of the fellow pub customers, but with his hat pulled low, James tried to become as inconspicuous as possible. Making eye contact only courted boldness and rash behavior.

The food was excellently prepared, quickly brought to the table, and priced well. In the far corner, musicians played fast and lively tune, but it was barely audible over the din of the drinking clientele. Wooden beams criss-crossed overhead, blackened by years of smoke from the kitchen and patron's pipes. Lanterns lit low made dining intimate, causing the clientele to linger and consume more.

Helen had never eaten in place where more people drank than ate, but found the current of excitement almost addictive. She was completely unaware of how James took the opportunity to watch her with naked abandon as the crowd provided distraction for Helen. In the low light, her eyes glowed an almost inconceivable shade of blue and were even further emphasized by the shadows her eyelashes created against her cheekbones. Her normally raven tresses reflected the warm glow of the lantern hanging above their head, making her hair look more auburn than ebony. It was tempting to look around to see who else appreciated Helen as much as he did, but James was not willing to risk a chance, only to be recognized.

"What is it?"

James was started when Helen spoke. He felt like a naughty schoolboy caught stealing sweets from the general store. His brain seemed to cease to function as James quickly tried to think of a plausible reason to be staring.

"Uhm… I was just thinking that it would probably be a good idea to pay our tab and think about heading back to the house. The later it gets, the more… vocal the patrons will become. I think it might be best to leave before that happens"

Helen swept her gaze back once more over the other customers before looking at James once again. Their plates were empty, their mugs drained several times over. It dawned on Helen that James had braved possible recognition to not only get some time away from his home, but to also allow Helen a much needed break from the confines of the house. The fact that he wanted to retreat back to the estate needed to be respected.

"Then I shall pay at the bar and meet you outside?"

James shook his head in the negative emphatically. "I will let you pay at the bar, but only with me by your side. I shall not let any of the men think that you are a wench that they could take upstairs for a tumble." James rose and helped Helen to her feet by pulling her chair out for her.

Helen led the way to the bar, knowing James was using her as screen to hide his features. It was tempting to put a little extra swing in her hips, but his concern was well placed. One of the few females inside the pub who was not looking to gain coin, Helen tried to will herself to be as inconspicuous as possible.

And apparently her mind over matter worked, as Helen was able to walk out into the night air unaccosted. All other stores were closed, and after a bit of window shopping, it was agreed to head back to the house.

A full moon hung over the beach, as the breaking waves took on a hypnotic sound. The two walked in comfortable silence until they both noticed several bonfires further up the shoreline. Shadows of people flickered before the fire. Faint sounds of song carried above the crash of the surf. Each looked at each other and in silent agreement, made their way toward the festivities.

The bonfire cracked and danced in the wind. Several men, and a few women, were passing around a bottle of rum as music played and even more people danced. When James and Helen were spotted, they were welcomed like long lost friends. A fresh bottle of rum was pressed into James' hands and it was insisted that he and Helen stay, enjoying the hospitality for a few moments.

Her second foray into rum consumption found Helen enjoying the bouquet a tiny bit more. Still not swallowing more than a taste, she did not refuse when the bottle made the rounds. It still burned and made her want to cough, but it also made her feel warm, drowsy and slightly… uninhibited. Which translated into a courage to join in the dancing she would not have had otherwise.

James watched in great amusement as Helen tried to mimic the dance steps, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her skirt was hiked up, her ankles exposed, the material balled up in her fists. Her feet few in near perfect time with the music. When one of the dancers noticed her, James laughed in appreciation as Helen was grabbed, then spun around and around. Her laughter was pulled from her throat and echoed through the night air as she flew from one dancer to the next.

The tune ended and Helen begged off any more dancing, staggering over to where James sat. Collapsing in a heap at his feet, she raked her fingers through her hair, which had escaped from the confection she had created. A sheen of sweat caused her skin to glow. With her hair wild, her eyes bright and her skin illuminated, James thought she looked magical, like a fairy or some sort of goddess. When she tilted her head in exhaustion and exhilaration, her long line of her throat was exposed. From his vantage point, her neck pointed the way to the top of her dress, like a sign with an arrow, leaving his mouth completely dry. James was grateful when the rum was passed back to him.

After taking a long swallow, James asked, "Are you ready to head back to the house?" If they stayed out much longer, James was not sure how he would be able to restrain himself. If she wanted to dance again, Hell would freeze before anyone else would have her in their arms.

After a moment's hesitation, Helen nodded her head slowly, as if the action was a difficult task to perform. "I suppose so. It is late. I am exhausted. But, honestly, I wish the night could go on forever. I know it sounds very childish of me, but I cannot remember the last time I had this much fun. But all good things come to an end." With that, Helen pushed herself up to her feet and with a formal bow and curtsey to the group, started the slow walk back to the estate.

James shook a few hands in goodbye, murmuring words of appreciation to their hosts before catching up with Helen. "Did you have a good evening?"

Helen missed a step and stumbled against James. Rather than being embarrassed, she laughed in amusement. "I had a fabulous day. I was able to get plenty done around the house before we left, got to see Port Royal after an absence of longer than I like to imagine… and then eat well and get entertained in the most unconventional manor – what could be better?" Still laughing, she willingly reached for James' arm, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm – and even held on with her other hand. James was beside himself with excitement… and fear.

They walked in step, Helen's head resting on James' shoulder, until she pulled his hat from his head and danced away several feet. With a raised brow, Helen made quite a show of sweeping the hat around before placing it on her head. James swallowed hard when the idea of her wearing nothing but the hat entered his mind.

Trying to rid himself of the image, James tried to sound fierce. "Give that back." However, since James was mildly amused with Helen, the command was undermined by his smile.

"No."

Of course she was going to be contrary. "Why not? It has sat on my sweaty head all afternoon and evening. You cannot want it knowing that."

Placing her hand on her hips, Helen smirked. "I want it precisely because you do not want me to have it. Now, so you know, I was going to return it – until you commanded me to give it back. But… since you want it returned, you shall have to reclaim it yourself – once you catch me!" With that, Helen grabbed her skirts in one hand, holding the oversized hat on her head with the other. Running in the sand was slow going at best, but Helen was also encumbered by the effects of the rum.

They were no more than twenty feet from where his property turned to rock before dropping several feet and turning into sand. Helen was running parallel to the water, her figure silhouetted against the water. James could not remember such a carefree day since joining the Navy, but knew that their friendship was about to turn a corner if he let it. And while the idea terrified him, James was unsure if it was not necessarily a bad thing.

"Come back with that, you saucy…!" James' threat faded as the appropriate words eluded him. He watched as distance opened up between them, but smiled as Helen threw a glance over her shoulder. With a chuckle, he gave pursuit.

James reached her quickly, as Helen knew he would, but a delighted giggle burst forth from her when his hand closed around her wrist. Slowing down to accept defeat, she was surprised when he continued past her, dragging her behind. His laughter joined hers as she tumbled to the ground, dragging him down to the sand beside her.

A tangle of limbs, James ended up with Helen pinned beneath him. The laughter instantly died.

Feeling her softness beneath him, James' mouth went dry and his hands felt clammy. He had entertained this moment in his mind more than once, but now that his fantasy was reality, James felt as awkward as a thirteen-year-old boy. _It has been too long. So long. But you must think beyond that and remember to be a gentleman._ "Are… are you all right, Helen?"

James' thigh rested between her legs. Everything else fell away. The wind stopped pulling at her loose hair. The waves stopped surging forward onto the beach. The only thing that stayed was the weight of James pinning her to the sand. She had watched his lips move and knew James had posed a question. Not remembering what it was that he had asked, Helen answered in the positive regardless. Anything he wanted, she would try to grant. "Yes." Suddenly, it was very difficult for Helen to breathe. It was as if the corset she wore instantly shrunk.

James realized that neither of them was moving. If Helen protested their position, James would have scrambled to his feet in an instant. But with the wind knocked out of him, James had taken a moment to catch his breath, but realized that with each passing minute the air between them was becoming more and more charged. Helen was taking shuddering breaths herself. But she did not push him away or tell him to move. In fact, she looked curious.

James allowed his gaze openly roamed her features, boldly dipping below her chin and past her neck. If this was not an opportunity being handed to him on a silver platter, James was denser than he thought. But if he mistaken, then what? _Best to ask, old man. _ "Helen, not to be forward, but I would very much like to kiss you.'

It was as if she stopped knowing how to breathe. Not knowing where she got the bravery, Helen arched a brow and replied, "If you do not, then I shall be forced to kiss you." She was grateful that hr voice did not waver, but instead sounded strong and clear.

James let go of Helen's wrist, his hand snaking up and cupping her cheek. His thumb rubbed circles along her jawline as he quietly regarded the woman in his arms. Curiosity danced in her eyes, a hesitant smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

James suddenly surged forward, his lips gentle but demanding. And Helen reached up and wrapped her arms around him, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

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**A/N:** Thank you all for being patient little poppets. I hope that you enjoy. And thank you for dropping by. More goodness to come.  



	15. Chapter 15

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N:** The path of true love is never smooth. Thank you for dropping in.

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A thousand years passed as Helen drowned in the kiss. People were born, married, had children, died. Those children continued the cycle. Animals were discovered. Animals became extinct. And still Helen and James kissed. 

Helen felt her heart hammering in her ribcage as she tangled with James in a fierce kiss. The tip of his tongue teased against Helen's, causing her to moan softly in pleasure. She stopped breathing for a moment before responding in kind. James' ministrations with his tongue were causing parts of Helen to wake up that she did not even know she had. In all her wildest dreams – and thoughts of him had invaded her sleep more than once – Helen never thought that James would have felt the same way as her. But what she felt was still a somewhat confusing.

Was it animal desire… or was it love?

Helen brought a leg up, allowing James to settle more firmly in the cradle of her thighs. The physical evidence of his desire made her want to weep with joy. For so long, Helen had questioned whether men saw her as a woman or if it was her family's money that was attractive. A groan came from deep within her throat, causing James to growl in response and thrust his tongue deep into Helen's mouth, as if the velvety recess belonged to him.

Feeling like a cat in heat, Helen was momentarily ashamed by her wanton behavior, but soon her passions ignited such an overwhelming desire to have James to be inside her – in every way possible – that if they ended up rutting in the sand, so be it. It just had to happen soon or else she was convinced she would burst into flame from the heat between the two of them.

The kisses escalated in their aggression as their arousal increased. Breathless, Helen broke off the kiss and turned her head in order to allow James access to her neck, amused to see how deep into the sand they had burrowed.

…And found herself staring at three Royal Navy officers.

Helen felt her mouth go dry and hated the fact that her eyes widened in surprise. Keeping a death grip on James, lest he turn to see what drew her attention away, she did managed to push herself into a sitting position without James protesting. It was if he understood the gravity of the situation without knowing what was going on.

Dressed in red and trimmed in gold brocade, the three men looked to be barely out of short pants. One looked nervous. One looked scared. One looked eager. _I see they sent out the talented trio._ Wanting to appear as cool as a cucumber, Helen set her lips in a wry grin and arched a brow. She just hoped her affected boredom was convincing.

"Good evening officers. Making the rounds I see? You could not have a better evening. The moon is full and the weather delightful."

Helen felt James stiffen in surprise and knew he wanted to turn around and look, but she held his head firmly in place. She was not sure if they would want both of them to stand in an effort to look for weapons or just to humiliate, but if James turned his head, Helen knew he would be instantly recognized.

The officer who looked interested in the activities Helen and James had been engaged in, smirked and crossed his arms across his chest. "Quite romantic actually. All the rooms full in town?"

Helen resisted the urge to roll her eyes in obvious disgust. The next few moments would either land James in the brig on desertion charges or would allow them to escape into the house without suffering repercussions. She just had to think quickly and pray that her acting was convincing.

Gesturing at James, she bemoaned. "Hardly. Have you never seen a drunk man before? My God, he is so deep into his cups that I think that ocean holds less. He fell just as we were about to head into the house and now I think he is asleep."

Another of the officers ventured a question. "The house?" He then looked at his fellow petty officers, a brow raised in curiosity.

_So much for being his sister. _ "Ah, I apologize, sirs. Of course you knew Admiral Norrington. I am his cousin, Helen. And this drunk is my husband, who I will not even grace with his Christian name right now. We came over from London to settle dear James' estate and it would seem that my husband here raised one too many to my cousin's memory this evening. On the way home, he got it in his mind to… you know… show his appreciation for me. He then fell. And it seems as if he either passed out or fell asleep. Either way, I am embarrassed and apologize for our indiscretion. However, if you will pardon us, I will get him inside and to bed just as quickly as he will cooperate."

The young whelp of an officer was still overly eager, asking, "Do you need help?"

Silently regarding the young man, Helen wanted to laugh. While she realized the gravity of the situation, it was entertaining to think that a sudden exclamation would probably cause them all to wet themselves or cry. Or both. But it seemed like they believed her so far. It was now a matter of getting them to move on. "Naw. He is mean when awoken suddenly. Best I deal with him alone than for him to say – or do – anything that would have him end up arrested. I thank you for the offer, but by the time you make your next round, he will be tucked into bed and I will be grateful that you let us go without consequence."

The men looked at each other in question before shrugging their shoulders in apathy. "If you are sure you do not need help rousing him or carrying him inside…" It was obvious that they were bored with her and wanting to find another, possibly more interesting, adventure.

Helen rose to her feet, brushing sand off her skirt. Her smile was benign. "No. He can get his own self inside. Worry not about me."

The one who looked scared finally spoke up. "But you said he was violent when he awoke."

_Did I? No, but it sounded like I did. Fix this, Helen._ "I said mean. I did not wish to imply he was aggressive. Just vocal. I have it from here. I hope we are the most excitement you find this evening." Helen hoped she looked pious and innocent despite being found writhing on the beach with a man.

With a collective look amongst each other, they all nodded their heads. "Come on. Let them be. The admiral will have our head if we are late in reporting back from our patrol." Muttering farewells, the men walked away, laughing amongst themselves.

Knowing that time was of the essence, Helen made a production out of waking James up. "Stupid drunk! Did you not even realize that the authorities were literally breathing down your neck? Get up and go to bed! Or stay here and wake up in the brig! See if I care!"

James rolled over onto his back and smiled up at Helen. "Do you think you could make me appear any more like a horrible husband than you already have? Besides, I thought I was to be your brother if we were questioned."

Helen nearly melted into a puddle when James let his gaze travel up and down the length of her figure. Steeling herself against his affections, she chided, "James, we just got a reprieve. If they show up again and we are still out here, you can be certain that they will find out who you are. Now get up. That call was too close for comfort. And, of course, the officers of the Royal Navy will be keeping tabs on the house from now on. We can deal with that tomorrow, but for now… I think that out of sight, might be out of mind."

James pushed himself up slowly, still not believing that he had come so close to his former subordinates. After brushing sand off his person, he looked up the beach and was relieved to find that they were alone. It was tempting to take Helen in his arms and resume where they had left off, but he knew that his attentions would not be well received. Instead, James took Helen's hand in his and with a glint in his eye, made a mad dash up the path from the beach, dragging his partner behind.

Gathering her skirts in her free hand, Helen allowed herself to get caught up In James' playfulness. Bursting into the house, Helen collapsed on the bottom step of the staircase in a fit of giggles once they were safely behind closed doors – and locked ones at that.

"My God, that was close!" James leaned against the staircase banister, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his racing heart.

"It was," Helen agreed, her arms folded over her knees. After catching her breath, the sobering realization of the moment struck her. She had kissed James with more ferocity than she had ever kissed anyone else. "Do you that it seems that whenever I am amorous with a man in public, I am caught?"

Silence hung in the air between them and Helen inwardly cringed at her verbal blunder. Talking about someone else she was intimate with was highly inappropriate and while it was never discussed, both knew that Helen was aware that it was James that led Andrew – and the rest of the crew – into the hurricane. James would not look away from her, but Helen tried to mentally will him to say something… anything.

Realizing that it was up her to fill the quiet, Helen's next words were barely more than a whisper, "Maybe I should bid you good night and retreat back to my room."

James smiled tightly, bobbing his head slightly. "Perhaps."

James extended his hand, offering Helen help to her feet. With a warm smile, she allowed her hand to be enveloped by James', blushing slightly when he brought her knuckles to his lips. James allowed his lips to graze the valleys of her hand longer than appropriate, glancing up at her from across the plain of her hand. Helen was surprised to see that his eyes were nearly black with desire. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, Helen was stunned when James muttered, "Bloody Hell," and then pulled her against his chest, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other hand buried in her hair, as he crushed his lips against hers.

Breaking the kiss and pulling back slightly, James whispered against her forehead, "Helen, I think you should sleep in my room tonight."

Finding that her voice abandoned her, Helen blinked several times and swallowed hard before slowly nodding her consent.


	16. Chapter 16

**Obligatory disclaimer: ** The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N:** Very much an M rated chapter. Knowing that, read at your own risk. But thank you for taking a peak.

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Helen rested her forearms against the balcony railing, completely unaware that James lingered in his quarters, enjoying the view of her skirt-covered backside, praying he would be viewing it unclothed soon. When she had crossed the threshold into his room, James noted that Helen had seemed as jumpy as a newborn foal. Rather than trying to take her in his arms and calm her, James realized that such an action might frighten her even more. So he sent Helen out into the night air, hoping the sound of the crashing waves and the night sky would give her back her equilibrium. He promised to follow with glasses of wine, of which she looked grateful. 

James tossed back a glass of wine and then refilled it, enjoying the burning feeling it caused in his gut. Although he wished it was something stronger – like scotch – but it would do for him to keep his head. James was not drinking to give himself some liquid courage, but letting moments slide by in order to give Helen a little breathing room. He wanted nothing more than to show just what effect her mere presence had on him. But he knew patience was a virtue and to the victor came the spoils.

The sound of footsteps behind her caused Helen's heart to flutter. While she appreciated the patience James showed towards her, Helen could not help but feel that she was surrendering any sense of control she wielded. In her life, Helen had always followed as she was told. But in helping James, she was able to dictate how things should be for he had been unable. But now she knew not what to do. And since control was about the only thing she brought to the situation, the loss of her stability was more than a little unnerving.

But James seemed to know just how to maneuver through these unchartered waters.

_Ha! Unchartered waters, my… Actually, not so unchartered. But this art of seduction is way beyond my realm of knowledge. However, James seems to know exactly how to play his part._

And that unnerved Helen more than anything else that evening. She was losing any sense of control she had and was relinquishing it to James. The one person who relied on her like no one else ever had.

Helen felt the heat of his body behind her though they did not touch. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, enjoying the faint scent of James mixing with the smell of salt water that had wrapped around her once she stepped onto the veranda. There was a long moment, as if James were considering what to say or do, before he took up residence against the railing next to Helen. Silently, he handed her the very full glass of wine, then clinked his glass against hers. Helen nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Looks like rain."

"Yes." Helen could not formulate any other words, so she took a sip of wine.

James nodded his head, trying to mask his frustration. In another few moments, he was going to excuse Helen as gently and quietly as possible. While there was no doubt that James wanted nothing more than to take Helen in his arms and carry her to his bed, unless Helen gave him some sort of sign that she would be receptive, he was not willing to risk having her move out.

However, James also had to wonder if he was being too presumptuous. Kissing on the sand might not have translated to the removal of clothing while kissing on the bed.

James downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and turned to face Helen. "Helen…" His voice broke, so he swallowed hard and tried again. "Helen… You seem unsure. If you want to sleep in your bed tonight, I will understand. In fact, I think that I… I was assuming too much. I apologize." James ducked his head in defeat.

Slowly, as if the mere act was disconcerting, Helen reached out a hand and touched James on the arm. "No. You were correct in thinking that I wanted to be here – want to be here. I… I just think that the soldiers took out some of my… fire. And now I feel silly. And slightly unsure of how to get back to where we were."

James' teeth gleamed white in the darkness as his lips curved into a smile. "I do not think that I have ever seen you unsure of yourself. You are one of the most capable people I have ever met."

Helen snorted quietly at the compliment, but it was obvious that her mind was elsewhere. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Helen cast James a look out of the corner of her eye before squaring her shoulders and turning to face James. "Truth?"

"Absolutely."

"I have never been so nervous in my life."

"Is it… is it because you have never…?"

"No," Helen answered quickly, then realized that her speedy denial made her sound like something less than a lady, which set her cheeks burning. _Of course, no lady would ever find herself in this situation._ "No, I would not be here if I had not. Or if I was. But it is because I have never done… this… before. It had been out of duty before, rather than… choice. And while I want nothing more than to pick up where we left off, I have to admit some apprehension over how just we should resume. And how it will affect our relationship."

James felt his heart skip. Bloody Hell, if that was not the silliest thing she could fret over! "Helen, if nothing happens this evening – or ever – I promise that nothing will change the warmth and affection for you. And if something does happen, the respect I feel for you will not diminish. Now, your wine glass is empty. Would you like a refill or would you like to set it down?"

Unable to speak for her mouth was so dry, Helen stared at her empty goblet and wet her lips. She then silently set down the glass behind her and let her gaze drift back out to the waves. It was ridiculous how anxious she felt but the idea of him helping get her from the balcony to the bed was comforting.

"Helen?"

She looked up at James through her long lashes.

"Give yourself to me," he said softly. "I promise that there will be no regrets. I have never wanted anyone so badly as I do you. And I know you want to, too. But I will not force you. I came this far. You must come the rest of the way to me." James held out his hand. "Please?"

She swallowed hard, staring into those green eyes and fought not to tremble. Helen felt frozen in place. James was right – she had never wanted anything so badly. But ever since she had arrived, Helen had been in control – or pretended to be – and this was one area were she knew very little.

A thousand years seemed to pass before she extended her hand, expelling her breath in a ragged sigh. James enveloped her slim fingers in his. James could feel the strain of anxiety strumming through Helen. Very slowly, he closed the distance between them, drawing her against his chest.

Helen clung to James' shoulders, making her very aware of his firm body pressed against her, his arm muscles beneath her fingers constantly flexing. Curiously, almost reverently, she slid her hands down the front of his shirt, trailing across the mountains and valleys of his ribs, enjoying the feel of hard muscle, before sliding back up and absently playing with the chest hair that peeked out of the open V of his shirt.

James then cupped her chin in his right hand, capturing her lips with his own. What started as a gentle brushing of his lips against hers, deepened into a full exploration of her mouth. His teeth grazed her upper lip. His left hand came up to caress the curvature of her cheekbone, sending shivers up and down her spine.

She tilted her head back to give James further access to her mouth, opening her lips to accept his inquisitive tongue. James moaned low in his throat in appreciation. As he explored the velvety recesses of her mouth as though it belonged to him, James realized that no longer were the kisses gentle or tender. The kisses escalated in their aggression as their arousal increased. He deepened the kiss and pleasure made her legs go weak. Her arms slid up around his neck, and he pulled Helen more snugly against him.

His lips left a teasing trail as James kissed his way down the arch of her neck, brushing her hair over her shoulder and softly, gently, placing a kiss against Helen's collarbone. He then blazed a trail of kisses as he made his way across the hollow of his throat, pausing to gently lick, then nip, against Helen's pulse point. Each tantalizing movement of his mouth sent warm shivers surging through her.

Not caring how wanton it appeared, Helen pressed herself against the length of him, but it seemed that no matter how tightly she pressed, she could not get close enough. Not caring that she was acting like a cat in heat, Helen rubbed herself along the length of him, needing to feel James' muscular length against her.

James hissed as the sensation overrode all rational thought. The physical need in James was so strong that it nearly dropped him to his knees. His heart pounded hard and fast, almost in time with the throbbing of his loins. His blood was racing through his veins so fast that his whole body shuddered.

He captured Helen's lips and she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue in. His knee was lodged between her thighs, the heat of her arousal burning a hole through his trousers. James allowed his hands to roam over her curves in exploration. Nimble fingers unbuttoned the front of her dress and pushed it from her shoulders. He made quick work of unhooking the top of her corset before sliding his hand inside and cupping a breast. Brushing a thumb across her nipple, causing it to swell, James then pinched it gently, sending shivers through Helen's body that ended in the most delicious pain between her legs.

A groan came from deep within her throat and parted her full, hungry lips. "That feels so good," she whispered, the words coming out as a moan. Her eyes bled to black in desire. "Do you… do you think that we might be more comfortable on the bed?"

Smile lines splintered from his green eyes and a groan that emitted from low in his throat that made Helen feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

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**A/N Part II: ** I hope I did them justice. I am so nervous. After all this time on a slow burn, I thought that they would burn white hot. I hope you all agree. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Obligatory disclaimer: ** The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N: **Decidedly M-rated chapter. And a rather lengthy aside. Skip below the break if you would rather by-pass my ramblings

A bit of writer's block of late. Over the last week, the gravity of the news made such light-hearted fare seem extraneous and vapid. My heart goes out to those in Minneapolis. Tragedy occurs every day, everywhere, but knowing people up there made the event hit close. I set aside the story for a few days.

Then inspiration struck. Part of my problem was that I was trying to write a "music and flowers" kind of scene. I just could not do that while mourning the loss of others. Once I realized that something much... grittier (for lack of a better word) was necessary, the chapter flew.

Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading!

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James and Helen stumbled and tripped as they worked their way across the room towards the bed, their lips fused together and their limbs completely intertwined. When they bumped against the berth, a nervous giggle floated out of Helen's mouth, causing James to smile against her lips and rest his forehead against hers. The two of them panted heavily as they took the respite to catch their breath.

Helen considered what was about to happen; in just moments, she was about to irrevocably alter the very nature of her friendship with James. If being half undressed in front of the Admiral did not cause such an amendment.

_All those times when I was able to boss him around and be assertive… Gads, I have no idea how to initiate something like this. Before, it was all bravado and not caring how he felt about me because… it really did not matter. Now it matters more than anything else. Because I care more than I should allow myself._

She ventured a look around the room. She had been in his private quarters before, but had not paid any heed to the furnishings. In the low light, she saw a simple clothes cupboard, a writing desk, and a stand housing a pitcher of water and the open bottle of wine. And behind her knees… the bed. Which seemed to stretch for acres. In all her previous visits to the room, the only piece of furniture Helen ever noticed was the bed. With a massive headboard, a soaring canopy and beautifully turned bedposts, she had never seen such a finer piece of craftsmanship. And soon, Helen would be on it. Naked. With a man. With James.

"James…"

"Hush."

Looking up at James, she saw that raw hunger simmered in the depths of his eyes but despite the obvious desire, Helen could tell that he was waiting for a cue or sign from her to proceed. Knowing that he wanted her, but was being a gentleman, caused her to launch upwards and captured his mouth with hers.

The tables turned as Helen went from being the aggressor to being pursued. Probing her lips open, James thrust his tongue into the velvety recess of her mouth. He kissed her like a man who found the source of life itself, willingly drowning in their mutual flood of desire. His arms encircled Helen's waist, pulling her close. James fed on her, her lips tasting better than the finest wine.

The room spun away as Helen basked in the sensation of his mouth – firm yet tender, warm yet soft. Helen held onto James, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. Her chest was crushed against his and she could feel the pounding thud of his heart. The need that swept over her tore at him, too.

A roaring hum filled her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Blood raced through veins like a flood-swollen river, causing her to feel lightheaded. The passion with which they kissed stole breath from her lungs, any sense of rational thought and all of her equilibrium. She grasped at James' hands in an attempt to keep her balance.

With a primitive growl of desire, James folded Helen back onto the bed, then pressed her back against the pillows. Helen was surprised that instead of feeling nervous, she felt nothing other than raging need and wanted nothing more than to be rid of her clothing. They were hot, confining and entirely too cumbersome. But she was also unwilling to take the time to remove them when she could be kissing, caressing, loving James instead.

James laid the full length next to her and resumed kissing Helen, who responded with passion. Her fingers roved through his hair and met his darting tongue thrust for thrust. Her hips bumped against his as desire spread from low in her belly, centering where his hardened arousal now pressed against her.

His hand curled around the base of her neck before tipping her head back to better explore the contours of Helen's mouth. His tongue danced with hers, eliciting a whimper from deep in her throat. The room was suddenly an oven; the blood running through her veins was liquid fire. His desire for her intensified all the responses James educed from her body. The slight bucking of her hips against his drew a deep groan from his chest before he blazed a trail of searing hot kisses away from her mouth and down the length of her neck, past the hollow of her collarbone.

His tongue danced across the swells of her breasts. Helen arched her back, wanting him to kiss her exposed breast, but his breath was just a tease above her puckered tip. His lips worked their way back up to her mouth, while his hand gently plucked at her exposed nipple. James smiled against her mouth as Helen responded doubly to the ministrations of his fingers and his probing tongue.

His fingers slid lower, until they paused at the juncture of her legs. They then crept past and pulled at the fabric of her skirt. Understanding, Helen raised her hips and soon her skirt was gathered around her waist. James then pulled her undergarments down to her knees, exposing her most intimate parts to James.

Her breathing hitched as James slowly slid his fingers past the nest of ebony curls and through her damp folds, seeking out her sensitive bud. James watched her face, and with no sign of protest, began to make lazy circles, causing her breath to shorten and grow jagged. A moan of pleasure filled the room, further encouraging James.

She was so warm and so wet. James then slid his hand up and down, his movements gathering speed, he reveled in the sounds emitting from his partner. Helen cried out softly, the sensations feeling like the most delightful pain she could imagine.

With a sudden cry that startled even her, waves of ecstasy flooded through her, crashing down between her thighs. Her back arched and spasms shook her body as one orgasm ended and another began. Never ending, the rush of bliss was so intense she could not fathom it, causing Helen to bite her bottom lip until she could taste blood. Helen would swear that the sensations were a tangible entity.

Once her breathing returned to normal and Helen stretched like a indulged cat, with a twinkle in his eyes, James whispered against her neck, "My turn."

Rising from the bed, James stood and removed his trousers, the action causing Helen to suck in her breath in appreciation. His erection pointed upwards, proud and ready. Helen was almost terrified of its magnificent beauty, but disregard overrode rationality and all Helen wanted was to feel its strength inside of her. It took everything in her not to swallow hard or wet her lips in anticipation.

With James half undressed, Helen became very aware of her state of attire. One breast exposed, her skirt hiked up to her waist, her undergarments at her knees. If the sense of urgency were not so great, she would have been embarrassed by how wanton she appeared. Instead she welcomed James back into her embrace and responded to his kiss greedily.

With desire-darkened eyes, James pushed her undergarments even further down, positioning himself on top of her. Nudging her knees wider, James settled within the cradle of her thighs. Feeling his hardness resting against her slickness, Helen brazenly began to grind against him, letting him know she was ready and eager.

Helen closed her eyes as James slowly started to enter her, his size almost too much too bear. But after letting her get used to the sensation, in one achingly slow plunge, he then burrowed himself to the hilt, stretching the walls of her to beyond possibility. He stayed still above her, his weight resting on his elbows and waited for Helen to breathe. Once she relaxed, he kissed her neck and started to slide back out.

She was tight. God's teeth, was she tight. Not breaking through a virgin tight, but tight as in someone who did not part with her favors often. No matter if he went fast or slow, there was no way James could last long. So he wanted to give Helen as much pleasure as he took.

Helen pushed her hips up to meet him and soon they found their rhythm, meeting each other thrust for thrust. Each time he pushed in, Helen felt James slide in deeper before. Her hands rested on his posterior, encouraging him to keep a fast pace. He tried to slow down but who was he to argue when his partner was so convincing?

Helen felt herself slipping over the edge in a glorious flood of pleasure. She cried out and pushed down on his backside, grinding against James. Her fingernails dug little half-moons into his flesh as she bucked against James, sending him over the edge.

He shouted something in Latin as blood roared through his veins, following a sudden jerk and then the most intense release James had he ever felt. Burying his face in the hollow of her neck, James clung to Helen as he spilled forth into her. He lay there until he felt his breathing return to normal and the lights behind his eyelids faded. With a groan of disappointment, he pulled out of Helen and rolled to her side.

Gathering her in his arms, he rested his chin on the crown of her head as her cheek laid upon his chest. His hand rubbed along the length of her arm and both basked in the aftermath of their combined bliss.

"That… was amazing."

Helen looked up at James, her eyes alight with happiness. His eyes were closed in rapture, his eyelashes a dark fringe against the paleness of his skin. Looking at him, her fingers itched to trace the contours of his face. _Not just yet. See how the next few moments play out._ Instead, she responded, "You think so?"

One eye opened. "I know so. But after that, it can only get better."

"Oh? How so?"

"Because now, we can take our time." James then rolled Helen onto her back and met her lips in a soft kiss.


	18. Chapter 18

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

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**A/N:** Another decidedly M-themed chapter. Sorry for the delay. Been watching the BBC America's episodes of Coupling and slipped completely out of James' character and started writing as Steve from the show. Think I pulled it back on track, but my apologies if it's slightly off-track. Thanks again for reading!

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Sitting on the edge of the bed, his body leaning over Helen's reclined form, James' lips drifted over her forehead and nose before brushing against her mouth. Taking his time with the kiss, he gently coaxed her lips open and allowed his tongue to roam. While passion swam in the depths of his eyes, uncertainty furrowed his brow. Would Helen feel regret after they had just coupled so frantically? Was he pushing her too far, too fast? He pulled away slightly and although he broke the kiss, his mouth hovered over Helen's, sharing her breath, drifting his nose along hers. 

Noting his concern, Helen instinctively understood and gently squeezed his fingers as she drew him fully against her. She had not noticed in their previous encounter the scratchiness of his leg hair, but as his legs settled rested hers, it caused shivers to race up her spine. She was nearly naked and in the arms of a man who waned her, not for procreation's sake, but out of sheer desire.

Her fingers burrowed under the hem of James' shirt, seeking out the warmth of his skin. While Helen lightly grazed his flesh, she could feel the flexing and contracting of his muscles beneath her fingertips. The solidness of James was startling, causing her mouth to do dry. Despite having seen him in the state of undress before, she had previously thought him tall and lanky. Now she saw him as solid and strong.

As James was about to start unbuttoning her dress, Helen pushed him back, shyly shaking her head in the negative. An impish smile curved her lips as she fixed her gaze on him, her fingers deftly worked the buttons of her dress free. He swallowed hard as Helen slipped the dress off her shoulders and pulled her arms free. Helen then raised her hips, grateful that James pulled the gown up her legs and helped her pull it over her head. Unhooking her corset, she cast it aside and was soon lying before James in just her chemise.

Helen's nipples, dusky shadows beneath the white fabric, were puckered into stiff peaks, begging for touch. At the junction of her thighs, the cotton shift was soaked through, showing James the path to heaven lay behind a dark cloud of curls. His fingers itched to slip below the fabric and explore.

"Now… Help me?"

Taking charge and directing the scene, this was the Helen he knew and grown to lo–… care for. _You were going to say love, you bloody imbecile. _

Wetting his lips to recover from his momentary distraction, James silently nodded his head and untied the ribbon at Helen's neckline. The shift opened and James slid the garment off her shoulders, smiling slightly as it caught briefly on Helen's chest. Once the chemise skimmed past her legs and joined her other clothes on the floor, she faced him directly.

Helen lay back against the pillows, shy but proud, reveling in his gaze traveling down the length of her body. From her feet, up her long legs, past the triangle of fleece, across the flat plain of her stomach, over the ridges of her ribs before settling on her breasts. Helen's nipples swelled and puckered under James' stare. He was unable to look away and realized that his mouth had gone dry. Her breasts were small, yes, but stood high and firm and proud. The weight of his attention caused her nipples to tighten into even harder points.

Suddenly feeling overdressed, James stood, grasping the bottom of his shirt, about to remove the garment before Helen scrambled to still his hands. Looking up at him, she whispered, "Let me."

Silently nodding his head, he watched as Helen kneeled before him, pulling the shirt over his head, her fingers dragging along the length of his body. Her touch burned his skin, causing him to shudder in pleasure. Completely disrobed, he stood proudly before her, enjoying how Helen took in every inch of his person. Her gaze was nearly tangible as she visually drank in each part of him… his massive shoulders, broad chest, heavily corded arms, the flat plain of his belly and his erection, full and hugging his stomach. Muscles rippled like stones skipping across water. Helen only wished she could verbalize how impressive James was in his natural state.

Feeling her cheeks burn, she looked up at his face and suddenly forgot how to breathe. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon. His face bore clean, straight lines. A high, proud forehead rose above strong and graceful brows and striking, intense green eyes. Firm, sensual lips sat below a noble, undistorted nose and above a stromg, chiseled chin. He smiled and she practically dissolved, reaching out and letting her fingers touch the creases his smile made around his eyes.

James took her hand in his, noting how Helen's fingers were tiny and delicate compared to his own. Bringing her wrist to his lips, he gently caressed the translucent skin with his tongue. After James watched Helen writhe under his careful ministrations, he drug his lips up to her palm and softly bit the sensitive skin. As she gasped in pleasure, he captured her other hand and directed it to the juncture of his thighs. Understanding, Helen gently began to acquaint herself with the depth of James' arousal. He let out his breath in a long, uneven hiss.

Her hand gently, softly, touched his chest. "Sit. Let me touch you."

The words, spoken in hushed tones tinged with lust, were acknowledged when James took a step closer to Helen, then folded himself onto the bed. Her hand tentatively encircled his shaft, not entirely sure of what she was doing. After dragging her fingertips along the silken skin, taking note the form and texture of his erection, Helen gently grasped the base of his organ. She then slid her hand up the full length, pleased at the guttural moan that skated past James' lips. Helen began to skim in long, gliding strokes, causing James to shudder and let out a slow hiss as her thumb caressed the tip. A drop of essence leaked onto her fingers and he jerked in response. Swirling his wetness around the head, Helen watched with open curiosity and near rapture as her teasing sent splinters of pleasure and pain throughout his body. His shaft became even fuller with each downstroke. Unable to help himself, James involuntarily thrust into her hand, which was the worst – and best – thing he could have done. Barely holding on, he felt the pressure building, he placed his hand over hers and groaned, "No more."

"Oh?" Disappointment colored Helen's features. _I thought he was enjoying himself._

Sighing in frustration, James cupped Helen's chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him despite her attempts to avert her eyes. "If you continue on, I will not. And I have plenty of pleasure left to give you. I can only go so many times before I cannot go any more. You, on the other hand…"

James lay on the bed next to Helen, his body pressing against the full length of hers. She raised her face to his and his mouth took hers greedily.

Feeling as if his hands were operating with a mind of their own, he placed his hands on each side of her face. Gently. Reverently. His fingers slid from Helen's shoulders and down her arms, traveling over to her stomach and over the ripples of her ribs before cupping her small breasts. His thumbs caressed her nipples, causing her to shiver in anticipation of what was to come. His skillful fingers then stroked and gently pulled on her sensitive tips as James' lips burned kisses on the hollow of her throat. His touch was tender and true, eliciting guttural moans from Helen's throat and making her legs clench together in involuntary reaction.

James' mouth slid from her collarbone, his breath moist and warm, as he worked his way down Helen's torso before capturing her left nipple between his lips. Closing his mouth over the swollen tip, his dark hair curtained her breast from view, making the sensations all the more intense for she could not see – thus anticipate – what he was going to do next. His tongue skated across the very peak, sending tremors of pleasure to radiate from between her thighs, before greedily pulling on the nipple in near-frantic need. He played with her other breast, his thumb alternating between lazy circles and plucking the nipple with his fingernails. James released the nipple from his lips and blew on it, causing it to pucker in response. Helen's breasts were throbbing in the fine dance between pleasure and pain.

Abandoning her breast, James looked up at Helen from between the valley of her breasts and smiled. "That was just the first course." His voice was warm and rich, a pleasant baritone, nearly melting her then and there.

Helen laughed in disbelief and plopped back against the pillows, tilting her head back in bliss – and disbelief. Nothing she had ever done before could compare to this. No other man was so concerned about her comfort or satisfaction. Being the center of one person's attention was completely foreign to her – and completely exhilarating.

James settled himself along the length of Helen, his weight braced on one elbow, as he parted her lips with his own and let his tongue explore the contours of her mouth. His free hand rested on her hip, before pulling her body against his, his hardness settling into the curve of her waist. His fingers then wandered to the juncture of her thighs, gently moving her legs apart so that he could maneuver easier past the folds of her sex. Touching her, James rubbed gently along the slickness of Helen's most sensitive place.

Helen felt detached from her body as her hips moved in sync with the manipulation of his fingers. James' fingers wandered, probing, as he watched Helen's reactions, enjoying the satisfaction she would feel when she finally exploded beneath his hand. As he continued to stroke the source of immense pleasure, Helen opened her legs wider, not caring how wanton she appeared, only wanting to experience as much gratification as possible.

Swallowing hard, Helen closed her eyes and moaned out loud. Arching against his hand, her breath came in short gasps as Helen felt the tension build to a painful tempo. James laughed behind the kiss before dragging his lips away from her mouth and whispered, "Please. Let go. Let me give you this." His voice was hoarse, colored with lust.

Let go she did. Curving upwards from the bed as she felt her body split in two, Helen found herself crying out in ecstasy, trying to pull away from the pressure James kept up. It was too much. Way too much. And yet he stayed there and the waves of pleasure kept breaking over her. Finally, she was spent.

Helen's muscles gave out and she sank back against the mattress, closing her eyes and sighing in bliss. Her momentary rest gave James a chance to indulge in opening gazing upon Helen.

Her hair was a black halo on the pillow framing her delicate features. Her nose, little and upturned sat below lacy fringes of lashes and above full and sensual lips. Her brows were full and strong, but arched delicately. A flush colored her cheeks from her previous exertion, but the rest of her skin was pale and unblemished.

Her eyes opened, blue and startling, the weight of his glance nearly tangible. Furrowing her brow, Helen pushed herself up slightly into a reclining position. "What are you doing?"

James ducked his head in amusement and chuckled. "Staring at your beauty. Do you mind?" James whispered, his cheek brushing against hers before he captured his earlobe between his teeth.

Helen stretched like a pleased cat before running her fingers through the hair furring James' chest. "Mind? Please. I cannot remember being happier. Or more exhausted. Maybe I mean satiated. Either which way, look all you want."

James smiled, his teeth a beacon of light in the darkness. He then turned away, blowing out the candles next to the bed that Helen did not even know were lit, throwing the room into shadows. Rolling back, he arched a brow suggestively. "I am done looking. My turn."

He moved fluidly, lifting himself so that he was hovering above her. His hands planted on each side of her shoulders, he dipped his lips to meet Helen's in a blistering kiss as nudged her knees apart, his head probing against her opening. The sensation caused a moan to slip from her throat and James entered her in one swift motion. Arching into him, Helen wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in even deeper.

"I… I could get used to this," she said, gasping as her hands slid down James' back and settled on his backside, encouraging him to plunge even deeper. James laughed behind the kiss he stole before got lost in the sensation of thrusting into Helen.

The pounding was fast and frenzied, pulling another orgasm from Helen's loins. She felt her body start to shudder, then convulse, under James' body. She screamed, "Oh yes!" as her body jackknifed forward, her pelvis bucking against his own. Her bones melted as a rush of pleasure seized her body. She then felt the staccato spasms of his release.

James came hard, a guttural roar skating past his lips and then a shout of "Christ bones!" Light spiraled behind his closed lids and all sound was suddenly in vacuum. Unable to hold himself upright any longer, James collapsed next to Helen, his equilibrium grateful for solid backing behind him.

The night sky was starting to be tinged by the pink announcement of the impending dawn. James had settled against the pillows, Helen tucked into his embrace, as he slipped into sleep. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, Helen started drift off to the land of dreams, as a thought occurred to her – that James smelled like the roaring surf that was announcing the incoming tide below the window. She smiled. And slept.


	19. Chapter 19

**Obligatory Disclaimer**: The Mouse owns all save my own original characters.

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**A/N**: Confession time... I have been wanting to post this for the last several chapters, but didn't know exactly how to phrase my thoughts. 

I am overwhelmed by the positive response this story has gotten. My previous story -- first story -- _**Shelter from the Storm**_ was a labor of love. I wrote, and rewrote, (and rewrote!) that story over a very long period of time and knew it well before posting it. _**Resurrection **_sprang forth out of outrage that James' character was so unceremoniously wiped from the storyline of _**Pirates**_. I held no affection for Helen, who was originally created as a foil and... plot device... for James to come back from the dead. I am not comfortable with writing and immediately posting, but the rapidness with which I'm writing (which is not that rapid at all) is causing me to get to know Helen at just about the same pace you all are. When the number of comments for this story exceeded _**Shelter**_, my breath caught. You have no idea how much that meant to me. How much you all mean to me.

End of confession.

Thank you for all your kind words and thank you all for reading. I am so honored.

Now on with the story already!

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Sunlight streamed into the room, trailing fingers across the floor before bathing Helen in a halo of light. Stretching languidly, Helen rolled from her side onto her back and basked in the warmth of the sun. A contented smiled tugged at the corners of her lips as she ventured one eye open. 

The skies beyond the open balcony doors were clear and pristine. A slight breeze billowed the curtains in the room and enveloped Helen in a soft caress. Gulls rode the air currents, calling to one another over the sound of the rising tide. A song from the happy days of her childhood entered her mind and she began to hum softly to herself.

Reaching an arm out to run her fingers along James' shoulder, she found his side of the bed empty; the sheets cool beneath her hand, a sure sign that he had vacated the bed much earlier in the morning. A pang of disappointment twisted in her gut.

The tune died on her lips as Helen sat upright, looking to see if James had moved beyond the balcony doors or if he was at his writing desk. James was nowhere to be seen. A slight feeling of panic began to creep in.

Sliding out from under the covers, Helen padded over and retrieved her chemise, pulling it over her head and letting it skim down her body. She then began to systematically collect her belongings. If James wanted to avoid her, Helen would happily accommodate his wishes!

"Where are you going?"

The words came out of nowhere and startled Helen so badly that she dropped her bundle of clothes as she spun around. James stood a few feet away, a tray heavily laden with food in his hands. And he was only wearing a pair of light cotton pants. The scar in his chest stood out in stark contract to the darkness of his chest. Despite the familiarity of the previous evening, standing so close to him in so little clothing caused Helen's breath to catch in her throat. _If only I was an artist and could immortalize his form for the ages._ Putting her hand against her chest in an attempt to slow her racing heart, Helen exclaimed, "God's teeth, you scared me!"

James smiled and set the tray down on his writing table, indicating that Helen should slide into the chair. "I apologize. I meant not to startle you. Although, you, in turn, gave me quite a fright as I turned the corner into the room. I could not sleep so I decided to make us breakfast."

Helen stared at the food stupidly. "Breakfast?" So he had not slipped from the room in an attempt to avoid seeing her in the aftermath of the previous evening's activities.

"Yes, breakfast. While I certainly do not have the skills that you do, I think that my toast-making abilities are passable. You seem surprised."

Helen finally sat in the offered chair, breathing in deeply. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast, dried meats and blindingly bright oranges were piled to nearly overflowing. Helen found the effort almost overwhelming, but after appreciating how good everything smelled, found her stomach rumbling for attention. "Well, I must admit to some confusion. When I woke up alone, I thought it was due to… regret on your part. That you were… rejecting me. Avoiding me." Helen turned away in embarrassment, her cheeks burning.

James pushed the tray aside and perched on the edge of the table, cupping Helen's face in his hand. Forcing her to look up at him, James shook his head in amusement. "Sweet, sweet Helen. With a face of beauty that would put your namesake, Helen of Troy, to shame. How on earth could you think that I would reject you? So, no. No regrets."

James stood and moved to the other side of the table, sinking into a chair. "But I… I must admit to some confusion though, myself. I have not been able to sleep, as much as I wished it. After watching the waves for hours, I thought I would do something productive. Hence, breakfast. So let us eat and then I can discuss what kept me from the land of dreams last night."

After spearing a forkful of eggs, Helen realized what James had just said. "You were unable to sleep? Oh my goodness! I slept like a babe." Shoveling the eggs into her mouth, she nodded in appreciation of the food.

James smiled indulgently, fully aware of how well Helen slept. "And looked like an angel. I watched you sleep for several hours, in complete awe at how lucky I was… am."

Helen froze. _Please do not say it. Please do not say it. Please do not say it. I want this to go on for as long as possible._ When no words of professed adoration came forth, Helen felt her shoulders go slack as she relaxed. She then raised a brow in curiosity but remained quiet, not wanting to lead the conversation. Instead, she took a bite of toast, forcing James to continue.

Leaning back in his chair, James placed his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together. It took Helen quite a bit of effort to listen as he spoke, his bare chest thrust forward as James stared at the ceiling. "Helen, I am sure that Elizabeth told you much about me before you even arrived. But she only knows so much… only knows what she saw. I was once hailed as a hero. People would rush up to me as I was walking down the street to thank me… sometimes I would have no idea as to why. But I would accept their appreciation with no questions.

"But I have done many… despicable acts in my life. Even during my days of adoration, I would find myself wracked with guilt and unable to sleep. I have played God and allowed men to die under my direction. Sometimes when they only stole bread to fill their family's empty bellies. I obsessed over a particular pirate and sent most of my men to their deaths as a result. In shame and embarrassment, I submitted my resignation.

"When I left the Navy, I became what I despised the most – a pirate. I pillaged and stole. I schemed to get my title and – supposedly – dignity back. But then, in my last moments, I found who I wanted to be. Elizabeth helped me see that, but even though I did the right thing and helped her – it was too late. I was stabbed and then died.

"So here I am. Reborn. Resurrected from the dead. A fresh slate. And wondering what I should do with myself. Do I go around doing good deeds until I die? Do I right wrongs inflicted upon others? Do I–?"

Helen interrupted, "What you do is this… Live your life as you want. Did you join the Navy because you wanted to or because it was expected? Or did you join because you knew not what else to do to be on the water?"

Looking somewhat amazed at Helen's intuitiveness, James nodded his head in agreement. "The ocean was my first love… that is true. And short of being a sailor for hire, I thought that joining the Navy would be the most profitable career. In truth, I really would not have cared what I did for a living, as long as it involved the water."

Waving her arms around to indicate the building around her, Helen smiled at James warmly, but her voice was firm. "You own this house outright. So sell it back to the Navy. Or, have me sell it for you. Buy a ship. See the world. Learn new skills. Make new friends."

James laughed hollowly as he rose from his chair and made his way to an open window. Bracing his forearm against the window frame, James took deep, calming breaths. Helen waited patiently, furrowing her brow at the angry, jagged scar that marred the elegant lines of his back. He finally turned and faced her again.

"I do not think I have ever really had any friends since I became a man. My officers and I were friendly, but when you are their superior, you are never friends. And outside of Fort Charles' walls, everyone was either someone I paid or knew as an acquaintance."

Trying to mask the surprise she felt, because James was certainly an affable man once you got to know him, Helen asked incredulously, "Including Elizabeth?"

Nodding his head as he made his way back to the abandoned chair, James concurred. "Especially her. I thought I loved her – I really did – but I barely even knew her. I knew her father better than anyone, so I suppose I could call him a friend, although he was more of a father figure to me.

"But over the years, as I sought counsel with Governor Swann, I saw Elizabeth slip the bounds of awkward childhood adolescence and transform into a breathtaking young woman. I saw that beauty and wanted it for my own. I wanted her face to be the first thing I saw every morning and the last I saw before going to sleep.

"However, she was not who I wanted her to be. First, I though I could make her into who I wanted and then I thought she had become what I wanted. And that was my fatal flaw." Shaking his head, James downed a full mug of coffee, then rested his forearms on the table and hung his head, as if the weight was too much to bear.

Helen was silent, chewing the last of her toast as she contemplated what James had just said. It was difficult to hear about her childhood friend being spoken about so reverently by the man she had just spent a passion evening with. However, Helen could begrudge neither one of them their feelings – Elizabeth had always loved Will. James had always thought he loved Elizabeth. Unrequited love was not truly love, but infatuation. And at least James saw the futility in his actions.

Then, with a saucy smile threatening to split her head in two, she rose from her seat and pushed James back in his chair, depositing herself on his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Helen laid her head on James' shoulder, pleased that he circled her waist with his arms.

Whispering against his neck, Helen rang her fingers through James' hair. "First of all, I am your friend… for all the good that does you. Second, you are not who you once were. It is true that you are a clean slate. The past is gone. All you have is a glorious future to explore. Away from the confinement of Port Royal. Now tell me, when shall I go and sell this place? And once I do, where shall you stay? There is no rush, but you need to start working on a plan."

James hated that his heart swelled in happiness at the revelation of their friendship, but tightened his arms around Helen and crushed her against his chest in thank you. In an attempt to cover his emotional response, James teased, "What do you mean? I shall not be moving on without you. We shall find a new place to stay… and you are right – far away from Port Royal… once we get the money from the sale of the home."

Helen felt her gut tighten, but tried to keep her voice light when she replied, "We shall discuss the _us_ of your intended living arrangements later. But for now, I have some extra energy that eating breakfast has given me. Do you have any ideas on how to deal with my new appetite that breakfast has given me?"

Realizing that Helen was being somewhat evasive, James filed away the idea to revisit questions about her life before their paths crossed. In the meantime, he had a very attractive, very willing woman sitting on his lap, running her fingers through his hair and nibbling on his earlobe. There were many times in his life when James was correctly accused of being dense. This was not one of those times.

James growled against Helen's throat, "Oh, I have an idea or two. Would you like an explanation or would you rather a visual demonstration?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Obligatory Disclaimer**: The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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**A/N**: Thanks yet again for stopping by and reading. Hope everyone had a happy -- and safe -- holiday weekend. Long chapter. Some angst. I hope you enjoy.

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Sitting on the rocks that indicated where James' property ended and the beach began, Helen watched the waves crash as the tide came in, feeling a sense of peace that had eluded her all the previous days of her life. James was by her side, lying on his back with his interlocked fingers cradling his head, watching the sky shift from blue to pink to purple, an ever-changing watercolor painting. Dinner was but a distant memory and evening was rapidly turning over to night.

Both were wearing pants rolled to the knees. Helen's were a borrowed pair of James' that she had dug out of storage, which she partnered with the shirt he had worn earlier. Feeling brazen, she wore no undergarments with the outfit. She knew that other women had worn men's clothing, with much criticism from the male half of the populace, but Helen never once thought that there was anything appealing in wearing clothes that molded to one's body so… blatantly. However, the mobility that the outfit afforded made Helen reconsider her previous opinion.

James' immediate reaction to seeing Helen don his garb was that reminded him of some of the ensembles that Elizabeth had worn in the past. However, once he realized that Helen had not buttoned the shirt, but rather knotted the shirttails at her waist, he found a new appreciation for women wearing men's clothing. Especially when she turned at the waist to face him.

The past several days passed in a blur. Both had forgotten that James was staying in Port Royal on borrowed time, for it was only a matter of one person recognizing him – even in passing – and having the Royal Navy banging on their door. But the happiness they shared made them reckless and brazen.

But lying on the rocks made James realize that he needed to relocate off the island if he wanted any chance at a new existence. An existence that he very much wanted to share with Helen.

James looked up at Helen and knew that while she was enjoying their time together, there would be no happily ever after for the two of them. Not in the traditional sense. If he wanted to sail the seas, would Helen be content to stay at home, months – possibly even years – at a time, waiting for James to come back home? Would he be happy sailing, knowing that she was keeping house, tethered to the boundaries of their property, wishing she were seeing the same sights as he? Was their any way to have their lives follow the same path?

James had been racking his brain, unsure if there was an answer. Women on ships were considered bad luck. But maybe she could run the galley. James did not want to make a living on land, but was willing to consider that as an option. His only real problem was that he was limited in his land-lubbing skills.

Rolling onto his side with his hand cradling his head, James ran his other hand along Helen's trouser-enclosed thigh. "I think tomorrow we need to figure out how to go about selling the house. All we have been doing is enjoying ourselves, day after day, with no real thought of what lays beyond… tomorrow. I mean not to be the bearer of bad tidings, but this is no way to live. As much as I would like to…"

Helen hoped that she did not recoil to his touch so violently that James noticed. The days had passed lazily and she knew that their tranquil existence would soon need to end. There was no way that the Royal Navy would not come sniffing around any day now. And while she luxuriated in the arms of such a good and handsome man, Helen knew that someday – and soon – their happiness would have to fade. James was but one stop in the many she had to make of late.

But at that moment, as James looked upon her with such contentment and frankness that Helen was unable to refuse the man. Anything he asked, she would deliver. Well, almost anything. Where he was to live next was not a decision Helen could help him with. What happened next was up to him – and him alone. But if he asked for advice, she would try. By God, she would try.

Nodding her head, Helen smiled at James ruefully before responding. "I agree. Wholeheartedly. I must admit that this is nice, tucked away here, separate from reality. But life marches on and we need to slip back into the world. Do you have any thoughts?"

Sighing in frustration, James shook his head and picked up a pebble, throwing it onto the beach. "Other than selling the house and possibly buying a ship, no. Any input you have would be greatly appreciated."

"I will have to think on that. I came up with selling the house. I thought you would develop the idea further."

James sat up, clasping his arms loosely around one knee. A smirk curved his lips. "I did. As I said, I think I shall buy a ship. Now it is your turn."

Helen laughed, the sound ringing out in the night air like the pealing of church bells. While it was not a completely uncomfortable subject, the carefree attitude of the day disappeared. And it was just as well – the day was nearly done and tomorrow would be a good day to face what they had been putting off. And once they set about a plan, answers to questions that had been rattling around in her brain might never be resolved so Helen took a deep breath and whispered, "James?"

Her voice was soft and husky, like the smoke of a really good cigar lingering in the air or a splash of brandy hitting the back of one's throat. Whenever she spoke his name, a smile played at the corners of his mouth, for nothing ever sounded more melodic to his ears. But in the quiet of the night, the sound of his name made James shiver.

_Bloody Hell, I am in love._

James looked up at Helen with renewed appreciation. She was not turned to face him, so there were no illicit sneaks down the gaping opening of her shirt. Rather, her face was to the sky, her eyes closed in contemplation, her lashes a thick fringe against her alabaster cheekbones. While there was no doubt that Elizabeth was breathtaking in her beauty, there was a fierce, ethereal quality to Helen – like she had been a warrior princess in a previous lifetime.

_Previous lifetime. There was indeed a time, most recently, when I did not believe in such things. Now, I am not so sure. It seems such a waste that one life is it to get it right. Although if I can come back from the dead, then nothing – absolutely nothing – is impossible._

"What is it? You look… perplexed." Which was exactly the feeling that was coursing through James' own veins at that moment. Furrowing his brow, swung his legs over the side of the rock so he could face his…

_Friend? Lover? Caregiver? What did one call the one they loved? Paramour? Suitor?_

Her voice was very small when she finally spoke. "James… do you remember anything from when you were… no longer in this… world?" She bent her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms her legs, hugging them tightly. Resting her head in the cradle her knees made, Helen looked at James and sighed.

James wanted to close the distance between them and crush Helen into a hug. But she did not look sad, just pensive. Their days – and nights – had been so carefree and unstructured that this sudden bout of seriousness was unexpected. Wondering what precipitated such a question, James wanted to do his best to answer Helen.

James thought for a long moment, but then shook his head in the negative. "I remember… nothing. I am sorry. Truly. All I remember is being on board the Flying Dutchman, searing pain wracking my body, and then… you. Which, I must admit, was not a bad thin to wake up to. I thought I had ascended into Heave, you looked so much like an angel. Still do. Why do you ask?"

Raising her head, Helen untangled herself and then stood. Stretching upwards on her tiptoes, Helen reached above her head, as if trying to grasp the underside of the crescent moon. After a short squeal, she returned to a flatfooted stance and replied cryptically, "I suppose I am trying to see what is beyond our world – if there is anything. Davy Jones had his locker, which I am guessing Will still has access to. Is that the purgatory that I grew up hearing about? Does that mean there is no God? Is Will now some sort of demi-god? I just… I just wonder how it is that you were able to come back. I mean, not that it is not fantastic, but the dynamics of just how Will was able to do so are beyond me."

"I wonder the same thing all the time. All the time."

Hopping from one boulder to the next, Helen scampered over to where James sat and plopped down next to him rather unceremoniously. Her breath was warm against James' chest as Helen rested her head against his shoulder. His arm instinctively encircled her waist, drawing her closer.

Helen sounded sad when she resumed speaking. "You said before that you did not, but time has elapsed and you have regained your bearings. Do you remember me from when Andrew was squiring me around?"

James felt his chest tighten. This was one topic he had hoped to avoid forever. Knowing he was personally responsible for the death of his First Lieutenant, James's guilt had been compounded by the fact that Helen not only lost her first love due to circumstances that caused her life to alter completely, but also the fact that he, himself, was in love with the same woman that Gillette had wanted to marry. And while not a man to cry over spilt milk, James knew that he would not be sitting with Helen in his arms if he had not followed Jack Sparrow into that hurricane.

His voice was weak as he began, gaining strength as James felt the words roll off his tongue. "I do. Bits and pieces have been coming back to me the past few weeks. Your hair was shorter. There was a party. Maybe ten years ago, give or take. A birthday party for… someone. I remember not for who. But I do remember thick curls brushing your shoulders and a lilac gown that made your blue eyes bluer. And those blue eyes never left Gillette." Unable to meet Helen's very blue eyes, James nonetheless smiled benignly, as he knew Helen was carefully watching his features.

Not wanting to hear any words expounding the virtues of the dead man, James continued. "I also remember that there was a Christmas party where Gillette had danced you under the mistletoe and the flush of embarrassment it brought to your cheeks could be seen by everyone in the room." Feeling Helen tense, James continued on. "But I think I was the only one who noticed.

"I also remember dancing with you at the Governor's ball the spring after, although I am sure you remember no such thing. Gillette had his chest puffed out, proud as a peacock with you in his arms, and I decided to knock him down a peg or two by cutting in. Until that moment, I had thought you very fetching, but had no idea how striking your looks were. I think I said something witty and clever when Gillette took you back like 'Uhm, what?'"

Helen laughed, for she vaguely remembered the incident. It was nice to be able to remember Andrew with someone who loved him as much, if not more, than she did. A terrible ache twisted her heart as she thought of the waste of Andrew's life chasing a pirate, but held no animosity towards the man holding her in his arms. Helen would never let on that she knew, for there was no fault – just the unfortunate timing of Mother Nature.

But Helen felt a longing for the carefree days when Andrew would quickly clasp her hand after church let out, sending a jolt of longing to the very core of her being. Not that she wanted to be anywhere but James' arms at that moment, but life had been much simpler back then. Much less complicated. "I loved Andrew. I know I was a silly girl who had no real idea of what the world was like, but I really think that the more complicated life becomes, the less saturated your feelings become. My parents said that I was too young to know of such emotions, but I loved him more than I thought possible."

Her words stung more than James could have thought possible, but he swallowed hard and replied, "Until you walk a mile in someone's shoes, I do not think that one can comment. I have no doubt that you loved him. Or that he loved you."

Hearing the hurt and wistfulness in his voice, Helen continued on, knowing that her reflection on her salad days had wounded the former Admiral. "I remember you, too. How dashing you looked in your dress uniform. How you brooded whenever Elizabeth walked past. How you looked so… startled when you danced with her on Christmas Eve. I just wanted… to pull you aside and tell you that anyone who made you feel so awkward was not the person for you. I wanted to smooth that furrowed brow of yours. To look up into those green eyes of yours and tell you that women were not so very different than men. But I was just a young girl and you were a respected officer. Who knew that our lives would meet again, only to become so intertwined?"

James sighed ruefully. "Who indeed?"

Wanting to right her wrong, Helen kissed a trail up James' neck before whispering in his ear, "I am sorry I brought up Andrew. I have always had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."

James smiled tightly, his eyes scanning the horizon. It was the only connection they had from the past. The only time their paths crossed. James understood her desire that he remember her from before. And before, their paths lead to others. He loved Elizabeth. She loved Gillette. Both feelings were a part of their history, made them who they were at present.

Turning his face to capture her mouth with his own in a kiss, James murmured against Helen's lips, "Nonsense. You cared for him very deeply, as did I. He was like the younger brother I never really wanted, but found myself immune from caring for. Your departure from Port Royal left a large hole in his heart. Nothing can undo what has been done, but there is no reason to abandon how we felt about others. It helps us better appreciate those we meet after them."

Helen returned James' kiss with fervor, glad to know that he was not angry about her conversation gaffe. Breaking away to snuggle in the shelter of James' arms, Helen turned and then figures off in the distance. "Look! There are the friends we made at the bonfire! It looks as if they are planning on more festivities."

"So it seems."

Helen looked at James hopefully. "Shall we go and dance?"

A brow arched. A sigh followed. James did not want to squelch her enthusiasm, but he in no way wanted to fight off anyone who might want to share in Helen's enthusiasm more… intimately. "Helen, you are wearing a shirt open to the waist. And as much as I appreciate the view, there is no way that the drunker those men get, the more they will want to see."

Helen knew James was right, but desperately wanted to bring a mood of merriment back to the evening. "Well, let me button up and tuck in the shirt. I think it is big enough to hide my lack of frontal endowment."

The idea brought a surge of interest to his groin. Being around strangers with Helen wearing so little, knowing that just the proper turn in the right light would reveal their secret. But then reason took over. "You get too close to the fire and the light will reveal what is under the shirt – you and nothing else. As enticing as the idea is, I think it will set too many tongues a-wagging. Which will bring more notice to us than there already is. How about I make you a deal? Once we are out of Port Royal, I will take you anywhere you want to celebrate."

Helen squinted her eyes as she calculated James' reasoning. With a shrug of her shoulders, she rolled so that she was on her hands and knees, then crawled up onto James' lap, knowing he would enjoy the view. Her lips hovered over his as she pondered, "If there will be no dancing on the beach this evening, then I think that you owe me a dance… inside… possibly in the bedroom."

With a heated grin that could melt an iceberg, James disentangled himself from Helen and rose to his feet, encouraging her to follow suit. Once standing, Helen burst into a fit of giggles and shrieks as James threw her over his shoulder and ran the distance back to the house.


	21. Chapter 21

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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It was still early, but the morning already hinted at the sweltering humidity that would blanket the island as the sun continued its ascent in the cloudless sky. But despite the early hour, Helen was already returning home from her business of the day. 

Helen glided in through the front door, humming to herself. Removing her jacket, she hung it on the massive coat rack guarding the vestibule. When James came galloping into the foyer to find out her news, she deliberately sidestepped him and continued to make her way to the formal dining room, still humming. James slowly followed behind, a seemingly invisible tether pulling him along.

After removing her hat and carefully setting it on the table, she drew out a chair and carefully sank onto the highly burnished mahogany seat. Once she had arranged her skirts, Helen indicated that James should sit across from her. Curious about her silence, James did as she suggested and patiently waited.

James had been a bundle of nerves from the time Helen walked out the door just after dawn, his insides slowly twisting into knots. Once Helen walked back in through the front door, his belly slowly began to return to its normal place, but in the face of her wall of silence James felt his guts slowly tightening up again. It took much effort on his part not to demand information on Helen's visit to the fort. But his patience was wearing thin.

Prior to going to bed the night before, the two of them decided that Helen should arrive at the fort as early as possible and ask to make an appointment for later that afternoon – and then sit and wait for said appointment. It would seem that such tenacity worked. Several hours had passed, rather than most of the day, since Helen made her way over to the fort and if she had returned empty-handed, would she not have said so? And if they completely dismissed her, Helen would have returned home within the hour. But what was with the silent treatment?

James had spent the entire time Helen was absent pacing the floor of his study, conjuring every possible scenario in his mind. He was half-way convinced that the Navy would deduct that he was still alive and send officers over to arrest him for desertion. The short drop with a sudden stop that caused him to be the nemesis of all pirates was a very real possibility of becoming his own end. When he heard the front door open, James had to peek first to see who walked in – hating himself for the act of cowardice – then went dashing into the room when he saw it was Helen.

Pulling a folder out from the under her arm that James had not previously noticed, Helen opened the file and removed several documents, sliding them across the table one by one. James frowned slightly, then raised a brow at Helen. Her face was carefully masked into benign indifference, giving him no hint of what the papers contained.

James was slowly dying inside and wanted to ask how Helen's meeting had gone with the higher ups at Fort Charles. But seeing as she was keeping quiet, James felt obligated to do the same. He maintained eye contact for a beat longer than necessary, just to let Helen know that he was aware of the game she was playing, then dropped his gaze to the papers in his hand.

Skimming over the legal jargon, James flipped through several hand-written pages and was first stunned of how much it hurt to see the written word of his death, but then was shocked by how much he was praised. _I… would have thought that there would have been more bad blood due to letting Elizabeth escape. _

And then his fingers settled on the document with the financial numbers for the house…

…which were staggering.

"You… were able… to get… this? For the house?" James felt the blood in his veins turn to ice water and whispered the words almost reverently. He reread the numbers again, just to make sure that he was not imagining the sum, and felt his breath catch as he saw they were still the same.

Helen nodded her head silently, her fingers steepled together before her as her elbows rested on the table. Her features gave away nothing except for her eyes, which were dancing with merriment.

James cast her a glance that was a cross between bemusement and irritation. Why was she not speaking?

Rereading the bill of sale, James realized that Helen was indeed the best person he could have sent to sell the home. Not even when he was in the Navy's good graces could James have gotten such a generous deal. How on earth was she able to negotiate such a staggering sum?

Helen's voice interrupted his thoughts. "They will be by later today to look at the house." She paused, smiling, as James looked at her with curiosity. Helen knew that her sudden burst of speech was unexpected but highly anticipated. Her absence of enlightenment was only to make her explanation that much enjoyable when it spilled past her lips.

"Namely, to take inventory and adjust the price if I was… verbally adding items that did not truly exist. That is when we… you… shall receive payment. I told them we would be taking very few of the items, as you and I discussed last night, for we will be traveling back to England and only want the items of sentimental value. My husband's absence was explained by his – your – need to… recover for a night's hard drinking. However, I think it would be in your best interest to… vacate the premises until they, themselves, vacate the premises."

_So the house is sold – with most of the contents. My life is suddenly moving forward and I feel like I am being left behind. But, it seems, as if Helen is taking everything in stride. Why does it… why does it feel like this is Helen's life that I am observing, rather than the other way around? And why am I suddenly terrified at the prospect of literally starting over? Is this not what I wanted?_

Helen continued talking, unaware of James' internal angst. "But a fully furnished house for a high-ranking officer was very appealing. So sprang forth the coin from the purses. Of course, the tears helped, too."

This pulled James out of his anxiety. "Tears?" James was truly befuddled by Helen's last admission. Why on earth would she cry, especially when she was able to finagle such a substantial amount of money? "Why did you cry? Did anything happen that I should know about?"

Laughter seemed to burst forth from Helen. "Yes, tears. They did not speak very highly of your highly traitorous act, I am afraid. Death was probably the best of a bad situation for you, for if you had lived… I would not envy you and your position.

"However, as your cousin, who knew nothing of your valiant effort to save the fair Elizabeth, I inquired as to why you would want to save your former betrothed. I must admit to laying on the guilt quite thick. I told them that I thought that you had died to save her from the hands of Davy Jones' crew, not because you were letting prisoners escape. Once I started to cry, I was able to get whatever I wanted. It was like taking candy from a baby. I could have had a ship named after you. Bloody Hell, I could have had one named after me!"

James was itching to know what happened. "So... you were able to convince them to see you with little waiting on your part."

Helen had to duck her head in order to hide the rolling of her eyes. James was trying to lead the conversation. But of course he wanted to know details. But Helen was emotionally drained. And physically tired. And more than a little confused over how she got so involved in one man's life.

Helen knew that once she answered James' questions about what happened at the fort, more questions about their future together would spring forth. And while Helen had done a mediocre job, at best, of avoiding any real sort of commitment about what lay beyond the immediacy of the moment, the time would come when she was no longer able to put off the inevitable. Helen inwardly cringed at the idea of telling James that she would not be able to welcome him home with open arms after time spent at sea.

_Elizabeth was adamant that once James was well – both physically and mentally – that my job was done. But her criteria for being well mentally was James' ability to fall in love again. And there is no doubt of his feelings for me. And, if I were to think about it, I suppose my feelings for him are just as deep. This is all folly! Why did I agree to the terms Elizabeth – and William – set for me?_

_However, if I could, would I even want to keep house while James was off having adventures? There is no place for a woman aboard a ship and there is no calling for James on land. Even if this could work out, I just do not know how._

_But I need to tell him what he wants to know about today… what he needs to know about today. And about tomorrow and the next day – well, I shall have to deal with that soon enough. And if soon enough is right now, so be it._

Arranging her features so that she once again looked benign, Helen settled back in her chair, her hands primly folded in her lap. But she forced herself to find amusement in the situation and a brow arched and her eyes truly sparkled as she launched into her explanation, despite the heavy weight bearing down on her stomach.

"James, I did just as you suggested. I requested an audience with the man in charge of housing – and when I say requested, it was more of a demand... encouraging the lad by leaning over the desk to give the him a better look down the front of my dress that he so desperately was trying to see.

"When the poor boy stammered that there was an opening around three, I smiled at him and told him I would be happy to wait in one of the chairs in the antechamber… Not giving him a chance to respond, I retreated the twenty or so feet to the seating area.

"I then opened the lunch pail you were wise enough to suggest and began to snack on the pastries and biscuits that were packed. I must admit, it was quite amusing to see him fidget while there was a woman closer to his age than his father's so obviously relishing the food she was consuming. I made quite a production out of breaking the food down into small pieces and then licking my fingers clean. I only wish I was bold enough to look at him while I was eating to see if that would make him squirm even more."

James threw his head back and roared with laughter. This was exactly why he got the large sum of money for his house – the little minx sitting across from him was a master at seduction. So few women understood that giving men a tease was usually enough to get them whatever they wanted. However, Helen was well-versed in the art of the human mind. But how did making one man want her help expedite her appointment? James was confused.

"So wait… how did a little lackey like that secretary get you in to see the some Director of Housing sooner than your appointment time? And why would he want to if he was so enjoying your show?"

Helen's teeth flashed white in a smile as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. Her posture screamed that she was revealing something not only amusing, but also quite secretive. James was more than a little intrigued. "Why, my dear James, when said Director of Housing came in to his office to start his day, he had to walk past me and… recognized me."

James' brow furrowed deeper. "Recognized you?"

"Yes. He happened to be my father's best friend."


	22. Chapter 22

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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**A/N:** Thanks once again for your patience and thank you for stopping by. Your support and dedication are truly appreciated. And sorry for so much narration and so little dialogue. I tried to up the talking and cut the angst, but it didn't quite work out that way. I promise more action -- and more talking -- in the next chapter.

* * *

"Your… father…" 

James said the two words almost reverently, so Helen held her tongue, letting him work through his thought process. She watched the emotions washing over James' features like the tides crashing upon the beach. Each moment caused his expression to alter only slightly, but enough for Helen to realize that she should let James come to her with questions rather than to try to explain away his concerns. So, patiently, Helen cocked her head and waited for James to continue.

James felt a sense of panic rising in his throat. Sweat broke out on his brow. It was one thing that people saw Helen out and about, but it was another when people recognized her. And while he begrudged her nothing, it was dangerous for James if Helen made friends amongst the Port Royal populous. It never once occurred to James that Helen's past life would come back and find her. She grew up in Port Royal – of course there would be past acquaintances still in town. And there had to be times, especially in the beginning when he was so ill, when Helen snuck away and visited old friends. But inevitably renewing old friendships would lead them straight back to his doorstep.

And while friendships with civilians were dangerous enough, it was another for Helen to see her father's best friend who was – _and still is_ – a high ranking officer in the Royal Navy. That meant that Helen's father might still be on the island. And that Helen's father might himself be employed by the Royal Navy. And that meant that Helen had to have visited with him and when asked, revealed to her father where she was staying. Which boded ill for James.

Sudden doubt ran through James. _This might all be a ploy. Helen might be working to turn me over to the fort in exchange for some sort of bounty. You know next to nothing about her – how can you be certain that she is not delivering you into the hands of the Navy? Could she be lulling you into a false sense of security and…? _

James could not even finish the thought. The sudden feeling of paranoia was more upsetting than the actual paranoid thoughts and James shook his head hard to dispel the feelings floating around in his skull. There was no way Helen would betray him. Not when it was so obvious that she cared for him.

Not when James loved her so deeply.

Squaring his shoulders, James tried to put on a cheerful face. "Were you able to see your father, too?" The words came out in a long, shuddering breath, nullifying his attempt of jovial candor.

Hearing the sound of near terror in James' voice, Helen rose from her seat and quickly rounded the table, settling herself onto James' lap, glad to feel his arms encircle her back tightly. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she nestled her head in the hollow of his neck before murmuring, "James, my father died several years ago. And my mother died in childbirth, with a sister who did make it either, several years before that. There is no one on the island that knows me still with whom I am close. Admiral Gorman barely gave me a passing glance at first, then came back and inquired as to my name for how many women sit in Naval offices waiting to see a high ranking official? It was only then that he recognized me and, I must admit, that I barely recognized him. I was very young the last time I saw him."

"So how were you able to explain your ties to me without–?"

Raising her head from the warmth of his skin, Helen interrupted, placing her index finger against James' lips to silence him. "James. All is well. Relax. Everything was tied up with a tidy little lie. My father was in the Royal Navy also, once upon a very long time ago. He retired before you were a commissioned officer, so I doubt your paths crossed too often. But he is another story for another day.

"However, when Admiral Gorman inquired, I said that you and I were cousins, making my father your uncle. My father and your mother were half-siblings and the family connection was never mentioned to anyone so that you would be judged solely by your own actions and merit. And while I detest lying, I thought it safer than any other option. Of which I could think of no others, truth be known."

James expelled the breath he had been holding out in a long sigh. Helen had been nothing short of breathtaking in her care of him… and it was obvious that despite his good health, she was still going to care for him. So why the avoidance of thinking beyond the now? Why would she not speak of their future together? Or even a future apart?

James looked at Helen – really looked at her. In the past few minutes, James learned more about her past than he did in all the weeks they spent together. Her father had passed and her mother died in childbirth, Helen's sister joining their mother. Did she have any other siblings? If so, were they still on the island? How could they be and Helen not visit? Were they back in England?

Helen looked to be in her mid to late twenties, but if she was friends with Elizabeth, then Helen could certainly be younger. But there was a maturity about her that sometimes made James feel that he, himself, was less worldly and knowledgeable than his caregiver – who was obviously several years his junior. However, either which way, Helen looked to be at the peak of her child-bearing years. But undressed, it was fairly obvious that she had never been pregnant to full term, unless her body was more resilient than other women's, for it was flawless.

But how could it be that Helen never married? Or did she? If so, was she still wedded or did her husband pass away also? How was she able to uproot her life and come help him when Elizabeth requested Helen's services? Did she leave children behind, in the care of a husband, family member or neighbor? If so, how many children were there and did it tear Helen apart inside to be so far away or was she seeing time with him as a break from her children? So many questions leapt around inside James' head that it was causing him to have the beginnings of a headache.

The page was turning as James was about to begin the next chapter of his life. By this time, he had hoped to know what he was going to be doing once he received the monies from the sale of his house, but Helen proved resistant in helping James map a course for the next few years. There was no doubt that James wanted Helen to join him and planned on seeing what he could do to procure a ring to make everything proper, but how could one propose when one did not know who it was they wanted to marry? How was it that after all this time, James still did not know her last name?

But what was the point in asking if she was making it quite apparent that the future that James wanted to spend with Helen was not the future she was interested in? At that moment, James cared not what Helen decided, but only wanted to know what was going on inside that pretty little head of hers.

_What am I thinking? Of course I care. I am just tired of not knowing what Helen wants – besides living only for the moment and dealing with tomorrow when the next sun rose. I wish not to map out our existence, but I would like to know if Helen wishes to be a traveling companion. Or if she plans on going to back to where she originally came from._

Then it dawned on James – _Maybe she is waiting to see what happens to me before she makes any decisions._

They were not out of the woods just yet. In fact, James was highly concerned with the Royal Navy trampling through his home, looking at his belongings. It was like letting the proverbial fox loose in a hen house – there was no telling what would be said or done to his belongings. But it was not the tangible items in his house he was worried about. James was concerned that he would be discovered.

Port Royal was not a large city. A small island in Kingston Harbor, Port Royal housed several forts, the largest of which was Fort Charles. But in a town that was isolated from the mainland of Jamaica, there were few placed that provided adequate shelter when hiding from those involved in any of the military installations in Port Royal. However, James had a few ideas percolating inside his head.

And Helen would be at home. She would stand guard over his possessions, making sure no harm came to them. And with Helen shadowing the soldiers as they went from room to room, propriety on their end would restrict any derogatory comments being said in her presence. In fact, James was sure that they would be fawning over each other in an attempt to impress the young woman with the drunkard of a husband. He hoped that his treasonous acts would fade away and Helen's charms would cause the tentative price for the house to remain at what the original offer was… or even increase.

So it would all be worth it for later that day, there would be money in James' pocket and hopefully tomorrow, the day after that at the latest, he and Helen would be on their way to a new life. Somewhere beyond the Caribbean. Somewhere beyond the pirate territories. Somewhere beyond the reach of his past.

James shook his head, disbelief coloring his movements. "So no questions asked? Admiral Gorman accepted that you and I are related and that was the end of it? And no one questioned you about your absent 'husband'?"

"As I said, the tears helped. After all, what man can stand being around a woman crying? But, sadly – or not so sadly – I was very good at making it all seem so plausible. And my husband is off sleeping away his previous night's libations. Oh James, do not look so glum! All you need to do today is hide for an hour or so while those officers take inventory of the house. Now, I highly suggest that we gather the items that you wish to keep and mark them as such. And think about where you shall hide. We have but a few hours to get what you want to keep and I want to get that over and done with so that you have one less thing to worry about. But there is nothing worth worrying over. You know that." The inflection of her last words was a comforting blanket over his exposed soul. _Leave it to Helen to make everything right._

James liked the tone of conspiracy in her voice. They were in this together. Together to the end. But where was the end of the journey going to be?

However, James felt a sense of sudden excitement. Helen had a light dancing merrily in her eyes that caused James' spirits to soar. All the doubt and uncertainty that had plagued him since she stepped out the door and then back, dissipated like morning mist on a hot day. Helen would never abandon him, even after the Navy left the premises of James' home. She liked being an enigma and wanted to keep him guessing, but the love and devotion she has showed him only reinforced James' idea that Helen was being playful rather than distant. "Now, you will help me spend my money, yes? You shall have a say in the ship that is purchased. Maybe we shall even name her after you!"

Helen forced a smile to her lips and slid out of James' lap. She took James' hand in hers and pulled him to his feet. "Come. I grow warm in this outfit and would love your help in removing these garments. Then, perhaps, we can celebrate such an outlandish sum upstairs before the Navy officers arrive. I was told it would be sometime after lunch. Since it is only now 10 o'clock, I think that we can pass the time productively…"

James was helpless but to follow, especially after Helen had already shed her jacket and was making quick work of the buttons on her blouse.


	23. Chapter 23

**Obligatory Disclaimer**: The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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**A/N**: Sorry for the delay. I also took extreme liberties with the location of this chapter. Dramatic license, if you will. No such place exists, except for in my mind. 

Also, pure fluff. I figured that they needed a little fun that didn't keep them in the bedroom. But that kind of fun **is **implied.

Again, thanks for dropping by. Means so much to me that you're reading!

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Helen absently walked along the shoreline, smiling up at the circling gulls, filled to bursting with joy. Everything about that day had gone exactly according to plan and Helen could not wait to share the good news with James. Now, it was only a matter of following the written directions he had left, for there were very few undeveloped areas of Port Royal. And what was undeveloped was well know by the residents. 

Except for one area, James told Helen. There was a hidden paradise on the island that few people knew about. And that was where James decided to hide. And departed for said Eden soon after they had revisited each object in the house. Which took place after they revisited each other.

Helen gently kicked at the white sand under her feet, then spun in a circle, her arms outstretched. What a grand day it had turned into. The weather, which had threatened to become a sweltering mess, finally broke and the afternoon's temperatures were actually lower than when Helen had left the house in the morning. It did look like it could rain, but the clouds were far off and non-threatening so if there was to be precipitation, it looked like it would hold off until the evening.

The officers had stayed but a short time when they finally arrived. James had been safely away from the premises when the officers knocked on the front door promptly at two o'clock. It seemed as if a contingent of men descended on the home, so Helen stood quietly out of the way, fully aware that she was being appraised just as much as the house and its contents were.

Several items of value that James had no desire to take were arranged prominently in the keep pile, with the hopes that the Naval officers would enquire after them. They took to it like a fish to a hook and Helen smiled as they took the bait. Helen had frowned and fretted, stating that there was no way she could part with such items of sentiment. But at the passed looks between the men, Helen bit her lips and tapped at her temple with her index finger, as if contemplating a change of mind. Telling them that if they needed the items, she would not deprive them – but in order to part with the furniture she intended to take back to England, Helen asked that she be somehow compensated if she was to be deprived of items that obviously meant so much to James. It was a risky move, one that Helen was afraid would backfire when the men hesitated.

But after some conferring amongst each other, the officers agreed to the price Helen put forth, glad to be done with the Norrington family.

So Helen took their monies and promised to depart from the property within 48 hours. She shook each one of their hands as they vacated the premises, then turned and leaned her weight against the door in disbelief. She and James had done it. Now, all Helen had to do was go and find him.

James had said that the sand would turn rocky and to walk until large boulders and dense foliage blocked her path. Large rocks, taller than Helen, seemed to extend into the ocean for miles, effectively preventing her from walking around. _Well, I suppose that this is the end of the road. _ Shaking her head of the thought, Helen furrowed her brow in confusion. A wall of vegetation spilled over the rocks that blocked her way. The faint sound of rushing water roared from beyond the trees.

Helen whistled as directed, unsure if she was in the right spot and feeling more than a little foolish. But then several branches rustled and then parted, James emerging from the brush. His eyebrows were nearly at his hairline as he looked at her expectantly.

"And?" he asked eagerly.

Helen laughed. James looked as excited as anyone she had ever seen. It had been odd being away from James for so long. Part of her being had felt empty in his absence. Helen smiled up at him as James took her in his arms. His thick hair fell about his shoulders in loose curls. Several days beard growth shadowed his cheeks, causing James to look rakish and reprobate. But his eagerness made him look young, so young, and Helen just wanted to slip into his arms and forget about the past, forget that there was a future and just enjoy the moment. But now there was nothing keeping them from the future – all obstacles were now gone. But for a few moments longer, Helen was going to relish the pleasantness of the now.

"Everything went well. You were right. So right. Several of the items in the pile to keep were of intense interest, so your wallet is even fuller than anticipated. I shall be happy to tell you all about it – later. Right now, I just want to relax; acting is more than a little exhausting. Especially when the stakes are so high. But all is well that ends well. Now, where is this hidden Eden you were talking about?"

With a chuckle, James formally bowed, then slid back into the foliage and held several branches out of the way with his arm, indicating that Helen should walk ahead of him. The trees were mostly young and their branches were easy to move out of the way. A faint breeze caught at the treetops, causing them to dance and whisper above Helen's head. And riding the breeze came the faint scent of fresh water. It was trace, but the earthiness and crispness of the water was in stark contract to the saltiness and thickness of the seawater surrounding the island. Helen's ears caught the sound of rushing water somewhere ahead of her.

Noticing that there was a faint path to follow, Helen pushed more branches out of the way as she journeyed deeper and deeper into the woods before she was able to break through the trees and into a clearing. She stood on a rock ledge rising up several feet from a sandy beach. A clean and pristine pool spread out not fifteen feet before them. Although trees still blocked Helen's view, she was able to hear the unmistakable sound of water rushing, then crashing into the pond, ripples indicating the direction of the waterfall.

Helen scrambled down the rocks and once her feet were on the sand surrounding the pristine pool, she saw the waterfall. Spilling forth over the smooth face of the rocky wall, the falls were substantial but not threatening, dropping no more than twice James' height. The spray caressed her skin as it bore down upon the crystalline water, the mist a rainbow cloud hovering above the water.

Helen turned in a circle, slowing, still absorbing the absolute majesty of her surroundings.

James could feel the sense of awe rolling off Helen. His lips curved in a smile as he explained, "I… I discovered this place years ago when I was navigating the perimeter of the island by rowboat. I saw the crevice in the rock face and landed the boat on a spit just to the left of that opening. I still cannot believe that no one else has happened upon it, but it has been my refuge from the real world more than once."

Helen nodded her head in acknowledgement. Feeling somewhat privileged to be granted access to such a wondrous setting, Helen wrapped her arm around James' waist but her head continued to turn in all directions in order to see everything around her. It was a small valley they were in, more of a canyon, and Helen could not believe that more people did not know about the location.

James' arm snaked around Helen's waist in return. His words were hesitant but earnest. "Helen, I know it might seem a bit improper, but… but… when has anything we have done been proper?"

James' voice trailed off and Helen felt herself tense. _Please do not propose. _ But the setting was ripe for a proposal. Never had Helen seen such a beautiful sight. But she stopped her staring and faced James. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "What on earth do you mean?" Good. She sounded curious. Almost eager.

James wet his lips and swallowed hard. He had wanted to ask her this for days, but knew that the timing had to be just perfect. And while he had promised himself that he was going to wait until Helen had finished exploring, James could not wait any longer. His grasp on Helen's waist tightened. "'Tis a grand day. Shall we… shall we go for a swim?"

Relief flooded through Helen. A weak laugh spilled past her lips and her other arm wrapped itself around James. Such an innocent question. But then she thought about his offer and Helen's laugh petered out, apprehension washing over her. He wanted to swim? "Uhm, James, I really have to decline. I… I have always been a poor swimmer. At best. And it has been years since I last attempted. But you go. It is obvious that you waited for me. I shall sit here and keep you company, if you do not mind."

James swallowed hard, trying to formulate a response. He was more than a little disappointed. While it was obvious that Helen was admiring of her surroundings, James had hoped that he had found the perfect reason to linger. But if she was afraid of swimming, maybe he could appeal to her practical nature. "Helen, I will not try to force you, but the water is warm and I shall never be here again. I will swim and have you keep me company on the sand, but it would mean much to me if you joined me in the water. The water is shallow – no more than waist-deep – and I promise never to let you out of my reach."

After a moment's hesitation, Helen bobbed her head in agreement and allowed her hand to be enveloped in James's as he reached out to her, leading her toward the waterfall. Guilt was a powerful weapon and while James did not mean to make her feel as bad as he did, Helen was aware that his phrasing was designed to tug at her charitable nature. So she followed along quietly, walking as if in a fog. Stopping near the spray, and knowing Helen was more than a little afraid, James opted to keep his pants on, but removed his shirt. Helen stared at his bare chest, barely aware that James had unbuttoned her dress and was working it down her arms. It was only when James began to unhook her corset that Helen gasped. "What are you doing?"

James smiled ruefully, tossing the corset on the pile of clothes. "I am undressing you. Although I am leaving your chemise on. But there is no way you can go into the water with all these layers and not get bogged down. We will just wade a little. So no need to undress completely. If I was looking to seduce you, believe me, this would not be it."

Wetting her lips, Helen lowered her gaze and smiled ruefully. A swim. No… not a swim. Wading. Wading meant her feet were always on the bottom of the pool. She could do this. She took a deep breath.

Taking tentative steps, Helen felt the water slide over her feet and lap at her ankles. _So far, so good._ She was glad that James paused whenever she did, letting her pick the pace.

The water was not what she would call warm, but there were moments where the water was not as cold as it was in other spots. Helen figured that a hot spring fed into the creek somewhere further up the line. But the moments of warmth were comforting, like the gentle caress of a mother's hand on a child's brow. Feeling more comfortable, Helen broke out of James' arms and walked a little ways off. Understanding the moment, James let Helen wander at her own pace.

Realizing that it was a defensive gesture when she folded her arms across her chest, Helen watched as her toes dug into the white sand beneath the cerulean water. This time in the water there were no choppy waves trying to push her under. There was no dark skies overhead pouring down rain on her. This time… there was James. And clear skies. And nearly tranquil water lapping at her legs. _This is… this is almost… fun. _

Feeling more than a little brave, Helen playfully swatted at the water, sending an arc of spray towards James. His laughter floated over the roar of the waterfall before he responded in kind. In a fit of giggles, Helen spun away from James, feeling the thin fabric of her chemise float around her thighs as she raced towards the shore.

But James had longer legs and was more comfortable in the water, so he easily caught up with Helen. As James held her close, his laughter rumbled through Helen, making her think of the water spilling over the hillside and pounding into the shallow pool. James held her with ease, his arms wrapped around her. "Nothing can hurt you here. I will not let it. I promise," he said and spun her around.

Helen was dizzy when James set her down and she found her legs unwilling to support her any longer. Feeling her anxiety rising again, she sat in the shallow water with much trepidation. Her body practically shook from the rigidity of her muscles. But the water that now reached the middle of her back was staying put. And the longer she sat, the more the water felt like a comforting blanket wrapped around her. Helen took a deep breath and then rose, her decision made.

James watched with interest as Helen moved towards the waterfall. Reaching upwards, she allowed the shimmering curtain of water to pound down upon her. The roaring of the falls drowned out the sound of her breathing, her heartbeat. As the water sluiced over her, Helen tipped her face back and realized that water was an enigma. The last time she was in the ocean, the water was completely enraged. Now, it was as playful as a kitten. Helen stepped out of the falls knowing that water would never scare her again.

James was awestruck as Helen moved away from the waterfall. His breath seemed stuck in his throat, then suddenly rushed out, leaving him breathless. He was helpless but to gape and words failed him completely as a long, drawn-out syllable that amounted to a nonsensical sound that he hoped resembled appreciation.

Her chemise clung to her body, revealing far more than if she had removed the garment. The translucent fabric hugged the curvature of her hip, then clung to her thighs. The juncture where her legs met was a dark shadow, as was her nipples – which stood out taut and puckered under the weight of the fabric. James swallowed hard as his gaze openly roamed the cloth clinging to a roundness of breast. Helen tilted her head back, her hair a dark stream cascading down to her waist. She then turned back to James, her hair whipping around and settling on her left breast, clinging greedily.

James' reaction startled Helen, but as she looked down the length of her body, she ducked her head and blushed. Then inspiration struck her. Turning away from James, Helen broke through the gray-green curtain, disappearing from view.

It was dark on the back side of the waterfall and it took Helen a moment to let her eyes readjust. Once she could see, she noticed that there was a hollow carved out of the rock wall. Not a cave, but an indentation. Jutting out from the cliff face, there was a rock ledge. Wading the few feet remaining, Helen pulled herself up onto the stone shelf and closed her eyes. There was no other sound but the tumbling water. This solitude, this wondrous solitude, made Helen think that Eden could not have been more tranquil and peaceful. Or even Heaven. And suddenly, worldly vestiges seemed superfluous. Wanting nothing more to be one with the world she was in, Helen began to tug at her undergarment.

Breaking through to the other side of the waterfall, James pushed back his wet locks that plastered themselves to his cheeks and neck. It was darker as the sunlight was filtered, greatly reducing He then saw that Helen was slowly, achingly so, slipping the chemise from her shoulders. A slow, lazy smile curved her lips. "Help me with my garment and I will help you remove yours."

James suddenly felt that his pants were too small, restricting him in the one area that needed more room. "I always try to respect a lady's wishes." He then pushed himself up on the rock ledge and softly bit at Helen's neck while his fingers made quick work of her undergarment.


	24. Chapter 24

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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**A/N:** Some of you will not like this.

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Morning light filtered through the curtains, chasing away the shadows. James sat up in bed, pushing sleep out of the corners of his mind, stuffing a pillow behind his shoulders as he watched Helen fold and put away bedding. He crossed his arms across his bare chest and shook his head. If this was not bliss – a beautiful woman to tend to his home and who also tended to his bed – then James did not wish to be told otherwise. 

But they were leaving tomorrow and James still had no idea if Helen was joining him. Of course, he had no idea where he was going either, but that was beside the point. James had asked several times, almost to the point of nagging, what Helen's plans were and each time she put off answering. James was getting desperate.

Flinging the sheet back and grabbing a pair of lightweight pants draped over a chair, James quickly donned them. He then stretched languidly, relishing the satisfaction of a good night's sleep. Turning to help Helen, his eyes caught the final contract the Navy had left behind and envelope containing the monies given in exchange for the deed of the home.

James looked down at the sprawling signature, looping and swirling, along the line that relinquished ownership of the house. He was barely able to decipher Helen's first name, let alone her last name. Folding the document in half, James brought the paper to his lips and closed his eyes, pondering the repercussions of the question he wanted to ask.

_Bloody Hell! Just ask the question and damn to consequences!_

Attempting to appear nonchalant, James reached into the laundry basket and picked up a pillowcase. He watched for Helen's reaction as he folded it in half and when she smiled in encouragement, James continued with his task. Taking a deep breath, the words spilled out of his mouth.

"So, after all this time, I think I am entitled to ask once again – what is your last name?" James nearly sighed in relief as his words came out strong, without any hint of waver. And it had to be a surprise to Helen that he asked something other than what she planned on doing the next day when he shut the front door behind him for the very last time.

Helen paused in smoothing the fold of the sheet in her hands and looked back at James. He was trying to hard to look casual by cleaning out the nonexistent matter beneath his fingernails, obviously done with the laundry. Helen ducked her head and smiled ruefully. She had dodged this question much longer than she dared hope, but now was the time to explain her circumstances… and pray that James would understand.

Her voice was steady as she replied, "Ward. My name is Helen Ward. Before I was married, I was Helen Alena Renard." Helen winced slightly, her eyes closing, waiting for the name recognition.

Which did not come. Helen opened one eye to see what James was doing and felt her heart sink at the look of horror washing over his features. As James quickly turned away in disgust, Helen felt her throat tighten and wanted to throw herself in his arms. Instead, Helen let him have some space and time to digest what she had just revealed.

_Married? She is married? How… how can that be?_

Launching himself across the room in a feral stride, James tore his fingers through his hair. Stopping before the writing desk, James braced his weight against the tabletop before pounding his closed fist upon the surface several times. Muttering an oath, he turned and finally faced Helen. "So how will your husband feel when he finds out about us? Or is that why you dodged my questions so many times – you have no intention of telling him about me?" James' words were icy cold in his barely restrained fury.

Helen felt her heart skip and swallowed hard. _Ah, he did not hear anything other than I was married – and understandably so. He has no idea who I am. Dammit, this is going to hurt worse than anything he has ever been through. _

Helen sunk into a chair at James' writing desk, defeat hunching her shoulders. Her fingers traced designs in the burled wood as she tried to formulate a response. Her words were barely a whisper when she spoke. "James, I… I said I was married – yes. That… is true. But… but I am no longer."

James paused in his angry march to the window, his foot momentary held aloft in mid-stride, before he turned and looked down at Helen. There was no doubt that she was telling the truth, her eyes were swimming in sad memories. Taking a deep breath, James enjoyed the burning sensation as he held the air in his lungs much longer than necessary. Then expelling the breath in a tired sigh, James bent so that he was squatting before Helen. "I am sorry. I had no right to say anything so rude. No wonder you did not want to speak of such matters. You are so young to have buried a husband."

A mirthless chuckle spilled past her lips. "Well, he did not die, so please, do not feel badly for me."

When Helen did not explain further, James realized that he would have to ask questions to get answers, rather than have Helen volunteer the information. And question asking was not a game he enjoyed playing with Helen – she was very good at avoiding answers. Squaring his shoulders, he dove in. "You are... divorced?" James uttered the word in a whisper of awe.

Helen shook her head in the negative. It was difficult making eye contact with James, so she pretended and looked at his chin. Chin, good. Wetting her lips after congratulating herself on faking courage, Helen replied, "Nay. Not divorced either. It is… complicated." She sighed in vexation. "I am struggling to find the correct words to explain it."

James furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his loose hair. "So he is not dead and you are not divorced." He paused, then rose to his full height. He grabbed the other chair and pulled it around the desk so he could sit facing Helen. "Helen, you can tell me anything. I would hope that you would know that by now. You mean the world to me. Please… tell me. I agree – it does indeed sound complicated. Were papers not signed, thus nullifying the marriage? Or was there an annulment? Helen…?"

Helen threw her hands up in the air and flung her head back, her eyes closed. Sighing heavily, she shook her head before whispering, "James. Those would be simple answers compared to my situation. Out of everything I was asked to do by Elizabeth, this is the most difficult to explain. Because," Helen swallowed hard before finishing, "it is I who died."

James cocked his head in confusion. "But you look as alive as I…" His words faded as sat back in the chair, the exertion of sitting up straight suddenly becoming too much to bear. "You… you died?"

Nodding her head in the positive, Helen closed her eyes, unable to look at James any longer. "My husband and I were setting sail to return to Port Royal actually, when a hurricane caught us off the coast of Africa. I… I went overboard." Helen gave a small shrug of her shoulders as James stared at her in disbelief. Then comprehension washed over his features.

"Benjamin Ward was your husband?" The words were spoken almost reverently.

_Ah, he had heard about the tale._ Helen's head sank, here chin resting against her chest. "Yes."

"The Earl?"

Swallowing hard, her nod was barely perceivable. "Yes."

James launched to his feet and strode over to the window, pounding the frame before spinning around and pacing before Helen. "Bloody Hell! That was you? My God!" James paused in his rant, the fire suddenly leaving him. His next words were soft. "Helen, he truly loved you. There were rewards out for the rescue or recovery of your person known internationally. It sounded like he was willing to move Heaven and Earth to find out what happened to you. It was… it was even said that he nearly died of a broken heart."

Tears threatened to spill forth, so Helen dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her dress before whispering, "I know. Elizabeth told me. Showed me an advertisement in the London paper. I have already shed many tears over his heartbreak. But I hear he has remarried and has children now. I hear he deeply loves his current wife."

"So how did you end up in my house if you died? Or were you just declared dead and really just unable to get back home? If you were declared dead, then you would be free to marry again, correct?"

Helen finally smiled a real smile and looked up at James. Reaching out, she clasped her hands around his, glad that he did not pull away. "No, James. I really died." She then rolled her shoulders in a half-shrug. "Sort of. There are a lot of technicalities, but to make a long story short, Davy Jones happened upon me and gave me an ultimatum. Either I became his concubine or to the Locker I went. I could not stand the idea of being Jones' whore – and I thought the Locker would be better than burning in Hell – so I made my choice. I was there until Elizabeth's husband freed me."

"So, like I, you were given a second chance?"

Helen very nearly broke into tears, her eyes welling once again. _Bugger! Bugger! Bugger! _ "No. I was given a chance to set my soul to peace. This was never a permanent situation. I lost my true love. Ben lost his true love. Elizabeth told me that you thought you lost your true love, but felt that you still had a chance to find happiness."

James looked at her in astonishment. Still had a chance? What in God's Teeth was she talking about? _I did find my true love – and she is sitting right in front of me!_ "I did find happiness! With you! I once thought Elizabeth was my true love, but now I know better. Maybe there is no such thing as true love anyways. But please, tell me that you care for me just as deeply as I do for you. I… I have loved you for quite some time, Helen." James pulled his hands out of Helen's and ran his fingers through his hair. When was he going to wake up from this horribly bad dream he was having?

Helen closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Physical pain – torture – would have been easier to endure than this. "James, I have no idea how to handle this. Elizabeth told me that I would find you handsome but promised me that there would be no impropriety on your end. And while I now welcome such impropriety, I have no idea what to do. Once you found someone, I was to leave. And yes, I am hopelessly besotted with you, James Norrington."

"Leave?" James was dumbstruck. What was she talking about? Where was Helen to go?

Helen swallowed hard and rolled her head to side, fixing her gaze on the wall. A pounding headache was forming behind her eyes. "When Elizabeth asked that I help you convalesce, there were certain… stipulations that she attached."

Looking bewildered, James launched himself out of his chair, the room suddenly becoming too small. He paced from the bed to the desk and back again before sputtering out, "Stipulations? What sort of stipulations?"

Unable to watch James pace the room, Helen stood also, but made for the balcony. She needed fresh air. Immediately. With the doors thrown open, Helen rested her weight on the door handle for a long moment before reentering the room. She drifted back to the desk, unsure of what to say. "James… I was told that once you were well, once you were healthy, I would be… moving on."

"To where? I do not understand. You were freed from the Locker. Where would you go?" James stopped mid-stride and looked at Helen beseechingly.

Helen kept her voice soft, in an attempt to lessen the blow of what she was about to say. "Yes… I was freed from the Locker. But I need to leave. As in, go to where Davy Jones kept me from going… originally."

James was silent. It took a moment, but what she said by what she did not say finally sunk in. She was to die. Helen had already died. Then she had come back. And now was going to die again.

And she was so damn nonchalant about it.

James sank into the empty seat, indicating that Helen should join him. Sliding onto the chair, Helen looked at James warily, knowing he was extremely upset but now so quiet. "There has to be something we can do. I will not lose you."

Concern wrinkled Helen's brow. She hated the pain she was putting James through. _It would have been better if I had just left in the middle of last night, after he had fallen asleep. Why did you not do that, you fool? _"James, you may not have a choice. I was told that once you fell in love, I was to leave. To just quietly slip from your life. There was never a contingency if it was with me."

"So you are saying that this is it?" James knew he was sounding frantic, but did not care in the least. Maybe if Helen knew how he felt, then she might be able to negotiate staying with him. _Damn that Elizabeth!_

"Well, nothing so… definite. But… more or less. Although we still have all of today. That is more than some people have."

"Hopelessly besotted," James repeated, followed by hollow laughter. "Well, that is one way to explain how I feel about you, too. For all the good it will do me, Helen. Bloody Hell, I am so in love with you."

The thickness of his voice caused Helen's heart to twist. "James… My dearest James…" She felt a sob surging past her throat and had to turn away lest it burst past her lips. "I adore you. If I could change things, I would. I came into this thinking only of myself and then found all my preconceived notions of you and your world turned on their head. And I knew the deeper in I got emotionally, the harder it would be to go. So I kept postponing the inevitable. I should have told you sooner and spared you the heartache."

"So when do you go?"

Helen hesitated before answering. He sounded so defeated. Dejected. Did she wrap her arms around him and offer what comfort she could? Did she stand up and walk out the door, never looking back? Not knowing what to do, Helen slid forward in seat, giving James the option to close the distance between them but still giving him whatever space he needed. "I… I was told that once you told someone that you loved them, I was to depart. I have no idea what that means. But since I am still here, I am presuming that I will be here until the end of the day. I have no idea if Will will send one of his crew to collect me or I will just… vanish. And if I left before you fell in love, I have no idea how that would have worked out.

"But James. James. I am so sorry. Here I am, playing with your emotions, making decisions about your life. James, the point is… if you can love me, then you are free to love others also."

James wanted to scoff at her words, but they were said with such earnestness, such conviction that he just sighed instead. His throat burned. His eyes burned. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and drag her to bed, sleep washing away all of their problems. But if he slept, she might not be there when he woke up. His voice was strong, unwavering when he responded. "There is no other. Only you. Soon I will be able to provide for us. And so, once I become happy, you will leave and I become miserable again!"

Shaking her head, Helen was unable to keep the tears out of her voice, but she spoke with conviction. "No. You died for true love. Once you were able to love again, then I was to leave. For once you were free to love again, then you were whole. You would not need me any longer."

Not caring if he sounded like a petulant child, James pulled Helen off her chair and onto his lap, burying his face in the hollow of Helen's neck. "But I do need you. And I do not want you to leave!"

Helen turned away, unable to bear the look of utter despair washing over James' features. _This was not what I signed up for! This is not how it was supposed to go!_

James stood abruptly, setting Helen on her feet. He coughed, then sniffled slightly before putting on game face and even attempting a smile. "Come. We are wasting what time we have left. 'Tis a beautiful day and no use crying over what we cannot fix. And what might not come to fruition." Encasing Helen's hand firmly in his, he pulled her along with him, dragging her downstairs.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Helen hummed and told jokes and made James' favorite foods – all in an effort to soften her departure. But every time she did something endearing, James felt his heart break a little more. Finally, in an attempt to hinder Helen from any more antecedents or songs, James took her into the bedroom and made love to her repeatedly, trying to excise Helen from his life.

And Helen understood, letting James punish her however he liked in bed, but secretly reveling in the wanton maleness of her partner. Not only did it make feel utterly feminine, but it also made her feel alive. Truly alive.

Hours went by, with James stroking her hair or caressing her skin when they needed rest. Helen knew he was memorizing what she looked like, felt like, smelled like so that when she was gone, he could remember.

James spoke not one word once they were ensconced in his massive bed. Every time Helen tried to speak, he silenced her with his lips, his fingers, small bites of food from the plate by the bed. He wanted no spoken words of apology. No declarations of love. No expressions of friendship. He just wanted to hold her. Touching her was all James could do until sleep overtook him. It was nearly dawn when he finally submitted to slumber's will.

When he woke, James found himself alone, the sheets cool beneath his hand.


	25. Chapter 25

**Obligatory disclaimer: ** The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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**A/N:** Thank you once again for stopping by. And for your patience.

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The sun had not yet begun its ascent, so the world was still dark. James rolled from his back over to his side and looked at the empty side of the bed. There was no sadness. No anger. Just emptiness. Where Helen should have laid, with either the think fringe of lash laying against her cheekbone as she slept or smiling back sleepily as she stretched like a contented cat, James saw only cool, empty bedding.

The darkness outside the window was a welcome companion to James. It was a cool, almost palpable presence that served as a reminder of how that day was going to play out. It was almost chilly beyond the cocoon of his bedding and James rolled so that he was on his back once again, a grim smile twisting his lips. There were no sounds echoing faintly through the house. No scents of breakfast working its way into the bedroom. There was no Helen in the house and James knew that the sooner he accepted that, the sooner his life would proceed forward.

James rose from the warm comfort of the bed and stretched his arms over his head, arching is back, wincing from the effort. Down the length of his back were red scratch marks where Helen's fingernails had dug furrows into his skin. When they coupled, he had taken her harder than he ever had before and with each encounter, James has encouraged Helen to hurt him in return. When she refused to comply, he took her hand and pressed down on her fingertips, using them as a tool, pushing in, dragging them across his chest until blood appeared. When she saw how much James enjoyed the sting, Helen acquiesced and marked James' broad back with red crosshatches.

But while he was punishing her for leaving him, James made sure that he never inflicted any true pain upon her. Any time that he thought her grimace of pleasure turned to a grimace of pain, he slowed and soothed her. But she always encouraged him on. Even now, James felt like he was walking as if he had been on horseback for over a week straight. _Wherever she ends up, I hope she is not as sore as I am. _

But all of the discomfort was well received. And although tender now, the gouges in his skin did indeed feel good when they were being inflicted. James smiled ruefully as he pulled a shirt over his head and settled it into place. And while there was no denying that the pain increased his pleasure, James main reason for having Helen scratch him was that he hoped that one of the wounds would leave a scar, giving him a visual reminder of the time he spent with Helen.

And now Helen was gone. Just the lingering scent of her essence rode the air. No more stern reprimands. No more bossy lectures. No more laying down belly kisses on her stomach. No more watching her face transform in awe as she happened upon a shell on the beach. No more of her head resting on his shoulder as they watched the sun set into the ocean.

No more Helen.

James shook his head slightly, clearing the images from his mind. He had work to do and not a lot of time to do it in. There were two bags to pack; one for whatever clothing he wished to keep and the other for whatever foodstuff would fit. He had made a calculated decision to walk away from anything tangible that would remind him of his past. He was a new man, with a new life, and reminders of his past would only hinder his future.

James was methodical as he filled his satchel with the few lay clothes still hanging in his wardrobe. He knew how to pack for travel. How to take the best advantage of space when space was at a premium. What to pack when weather conditions were unknown. How to fold clothes so that when they came out of bags, no real wrinkles appeared. James smirked to himself as he folded a shirt. Learned skills that were normally in the realm of the female persuasion of the population were learned by all men in the military. Learned skills that most men set aside once they left the military and found a woman.

_Well, she found me. And then left. And until I find myself someone to fill her role, which does not seem too likely when I shall have a life on the sea, I suppose I am glad to know such things._

But the more he thought about his forced aloneness, the tighter James twisted his clothes until the original shape of the items was barely distinguishable. Sighing in vexation, he tossed his remaining garments in the satchel, needing to be done with the task. Shouldering the bundle, James gave one last look to his bedroom and walked out of it forever.

James felt some inane need to walk the rooms of his house. He tried to convince himself that it was not to say goodbye to his home… to his life… but although he would not admit it to himself, James was going to miss the budding potential that the new chapter of his life had offered. And although he felt very similar to the man who woke up in the care of Helen, the house was filled with reminders of who he once was. Who he was before Helen. Before Davy Jones killed him.

James had no desire to step back into the life of a Commodore, let alone Admiral, but there as a certain charm that his former life held. A certain innocence that he missed. As he meandered through one room to the next, James mourned for the man who once lived in these walls, with all the hopes and dreams that failed to meet fruition. Commodore James Norrington was a naïve man despite some of the horrors he had seen in his few short years.

But once he had resigned his commission, a jaded man walked into his skin. A man who had nothing left to live for because he had lost everything. A man who lost the woman of his dreams. A man who lost the best men who ever served under him. A man who lost the will to live. So James dived headfirst into self-destruction. Hoping to find his salvation in the bottom of a bottle of rum, James blindly followed Elizabeth onto the Black Pearl – and Jack Sparrow's employ – in a drunken stupor. _If I had only stayed in that damned pigsty instead of following Elizabeth like some leash tethered me to her side. If I had just stayed put, then none of this would have happened._

_None of this would have happened and I would never have met Helen._

Mulling over the idea of which was actually better, having loved and lost or having never loved at all, James continued walking through the rooms of the house, taking a visual inventory of his previous life. The painting of his parents hanging over the fireplace in the formal parlor. The massive dining room table that he and his men had spent many a night around, planning strategy and drinking fine port. The servants' quarters that were never used, save for himself.

And Helen.

_Dammit! Cannot I see think about her for one moment?_

Smiling grimly to himself, James made his way to the liquor cabinet and decided to break into his bottle of Scotch. Forgoing a glass, James drank straight from the bottle, harkening back to his days as a drunk. But since Helen had portrayed him as her drunk husband to the Navy, James saw no reason not to give them some evidence to collaborate.

Enjoying the burning trail of liquor working its way down to his stomach, James mulled over the two women he had loved – and lost – and how their paths crossed each other… and his own. He never asked, but James had to wonder how Helen had gotten him in the house. How he got to Port Royal. How Helen was able to afford the items she bought.

It had to have been Elizabeth.

Did that mean Elizabeth had been in his house? The house James had built in the hopes of making her his bride? The thought of Elizabeth walking the hallways, treading the floors, of his home grated on his nerves, so he took a swig of his Scotch. Walking through the rooms like it was her house. Another swig. The gall! The absolute gall! He imagined her giggling over the attempts he made in trying to make the home more… relaxed. Less rigid. More personable.

Less like himself.

Helen never made it known where Elizabeth was living. Except that she was not on the island. At first, James thought it was to keep him from running into his former fiancée's arms. Now he was glad that he did not know, if only to keep from choking the life out of the infernal woman. If James ever laid eyes on Elizabeth again, he was unsure if he could keep himself in check. Bringing him back, only to fall in love with a woman who was then torn from his arms went beyond cruel. Elizabeth would do well to put herself in the employ of the military because they could learn a thing or two from her about torture.

_Of course, how was Elizabeth to know that the woman I fell for was the only one who would be denied to me?_ Taking another drink, James felt waves of anger and sadness washing over him. He needed to leave. He needed to get off the island. He needed to get as far away from everything he knew as soon as possible. He felt like he was being haunted by the ghost of Helen.

_Now if that is not ironic, then I do not know the meaning._

James took once last walk-through of the house, making sure he was leaving nothing behind. Convinced that he had packed all that he needed, James made his way to the foyer. Shouldering his bundles, James sighed heavily, the reality of the moment hitting him. The next chapter of his life would be without Helen by his side. His hand on the door handle, James looked around the room. _This house was supposed to be my happy ending and instead it became this nightmare that has only just begun._ Sighing in defeat, James opened the door and walked out to meet the rest of his life.

It was dawn when James shut the door behind him.


	26. Chapter 26

**Obligatory disclaimer:** The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.

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James stood on the upper deck of the _Luna Mare_, as he christened his newly paid for ship, inhaling deep lungfuls of the sea air. While this was not how he had envisioned his life turning out, he mused that it was not a bad way to live. He had purchased the ship one week prior and while he knew nothing about running a business, James knew everything about sailing and the maintenance of ships. From making it from one port to the next in the shortest amount of time possible… to finding the safest path pirates and weather would allow, James knew he would make better time than most of his competitors. 

Unsure of how to go about purchasing a vessel, James had taken the profits from the sale of his home and belongings, then sought out men who might be down on their luck in the harbor. Several men wanted out of the business of cargo transportation and were eager to pad their very lean wallets with James' money. James screamed novice to them, so all were itching to do business with him. But James drove a hard bargain and soon he was able to procure the soundest ship his money could buy. While the smaller size would hinder profits, James had bypassed larger ships that were less structurally sound. When the tides turned, he would be heading for Nassau to acquire a crew, a task that seemed rather daunting… and exhilarating.

Feeling like a king surveying his kingdom, James rested his forearms on the railing and pondered what Helen was doing at that moment. It was the first time he had allowed himself to think about Helen since her departure and instantly regretted doing so. After he woke up alone the morning after their exchange, he found himself not only a man without a home, but completely – and desperately – alone. But desperate times call for desperate measures and James soon found himself a ship owner before sundown. While knowing it was dangerous to linger in Port Royal, James stayed on while renovating the ship to meet his transport needs.

And it allowed him to think about Helen just a little bit longer.

_She is dead, you fool. Dead, as you once were. She is doing nothing but possibly looking down on you, wondering why you have not done more since she left. It has been one week and all you have done is drink and mope. You leave – today. _

"Ho there! I apologize for intruding into your thoughts, but are you accepting any passengers?"

James turned and looked down at the gangplank, silently cursing himself for not drawing the board up on deck. The voice was low and husky, reminding James of smoky billiards rooms and cognac. There was no other was to describe the timbre other than intoxicating. But it was also decidedly feminine. And vaguely familiar.

The person was wearing a wide-brimmed hat worn low over their features and a gray traveling suit that did nothing to disguise the very womanly figure the clothing housed. Because of the arc of the sun, the woman's features were cast in shadow, obliterating her features. James squinted to see if he could make out any facial details, but found it was like trying to see through murky water. As James sighed in vexation, his chest rose and fell like the tides.

James then shook his head, slightly disappointed in the fact that he was turning down possible business. But he had no supplies and a single man transporting a seemingly single female would be highly inappropriate. "I am sorry, but I am not taking any passengers. If you are looking to arrange for passage, I highly suggest that you try the other end of the dock. Some of those ships are transporting persons as well as cargo." James smiled down at the woman, hoping that he came across as contrite rather than cross.

But she would not be deterred. "I have money." She held up a purse and shook it slightly, the sound of jingling coins carrying over the sounds of the pier.

James knew he should stop walking towards the woman, for as he closed the distance between them he knew he was only giving her false hope, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He climbed down the stairs to the main deck, his eyes never leaving the woman. Coming to a stop just over an arm's length away, James paused and replied, "I understand that, but… I have no crew." James swept his arms around to indicate his empty ship. "And… you… you have no idea where it is I am going." Her persistence was unnerving. And James had seen more than his fair share of unnerving sights. Dying men whose bodies were twisted in agony and mutilation. Undead pirates. Mermen. _But none of them had been of the female persuasion._

_Unless you count watching Elizabeth flirt with Will. And Jack. Bloody Hell, that was almost worse than watching her make moon eyes over the young whelp. _

The woman ducked her head, the brim of her hat acting like a shield. James could not tell if she was being coy or guarded. She shoulders rose and fell in indifference. "Does it matter? I am ready to see what is out there in the world. I am presuming you can take me somewhere I have not been." Her head tilted upwards slightly, but her features were still obscured. Now James knew she was being coy.

James furrowed his brow. Unsure of what was going on, he took the few steps remaining between them and grabbed her shoulder, causing her to gasp. Knowing it was highly improper, his hand cupped her chin, forcing her head up so that he could look upon her face. James instantly recognized her and backed away, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

"Helen!"

Her smile was a lopsided one; slightly apologetic, slightly rueful. But as James' disbelief slid into confusion, the brightness of her smile outshone the sun. She wanted him to be happy to see her. She wanted him to be overcome with joy. Why did he look so scared? "Hello, James. You are looking good for yourself." Helen took a tentative step forward, knowing that her reappearance was more than a little unexpected, but hoping that he would embrace her. Instead, he backed away.

James halted his retreat when his back connected with the railing that housed the stairs leading to the upper deck. Fighting the urge to swallow hard in disbelief, he took a deep breath and prayed that his voice remained calm. "What are you doing here?" Good, that was even and unwavering. But rude, so rude.

Wetting her lips, she tried to squelch a chuckle. Out of all the things he could say, those were the first words out of his mouth?

"Trying to obtain passage, is it not obvious?" Helen remained where she was, despite wanting to go running and throw herself in James' arms. He was obviously stunned and more than a little distressed. She did not want to frighten him any more than she already had. And even though his touch had been intoxicating and searing hot when he cupped her chin, Helen was determined to wait until he came back to her.

Attempting several times to reply and failing miserably when no words came out, James frowned repeatedly, unsure of what to do or say. Finally, the ability to speak returned, even though comprehension still eluded James. And the words spilled out like a rum from a bottle. "I see that. But… why? What happened? My God, I dared not pray that I should get you back, but if I had you may have returned sooner. 'Tis you! God's Teeth, but I never thought I would get to see you again! But… how? I thought… I… am really confused." His right hand arced upwards to his brow where he was frantically trying to massage away the beginnings of a headache.

Pressing her lips together, Helen wanted to comfort James. But she knew that any kind of contact, any kind of intimacy, would frighten more than comfort. So she stayed rooted in place. "How I came to be here… has a very complicated answer, but it all boils down to the fact that you and I both did what we were supposed to do. I was to help you become whole. And to do that meant you were to find love. After some thought on William Turner's part, it was decided that to penalize you was wrong. So Will granted me passage back to the world of the living. He sends his apologies and hopes that in time you can forgive him. He said that he never wanted to hurt you and hopes that my return can heal some wounds. And he said that you would know what he meant by that."

Seeing that James' features darkened at the mention of Will Turner, Helen pressed on. "And as far as being confused, James, that it is completely understandable. I was not expecting to be here myself. But, here I am. And I hope my presence is not too inconvenient."

His eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline. Stomping back to her, James grasped her upper arms and drew her up onto her toes. "Inconvenient? Helen… Bloody Hell, I never thought I could be so happy!" His head lowered so that his breath caressed her lips, so Helen closed her eyes in anticipation for a kiss. But he suddenly released her, causing her eyes to open in surprise.

His hands went to his hair, pulling tendrils loose from his queue, as he closed his eyes in disbelief. Opening them one at a time, he was pleased to find Helen still standing before him. He had never felt such despair when he woke up alone and although he wanted to believe that this was really, truly happening, James kept waiting for the dream to shatter.

James still had not granted her passage, a requirement from Will and Elizabeth in order to make her return permanent. She took a hesitant step forward. "So you will let me board?" He seemed so conflicted. There was no possible way that he had met someone else in her absence and she was hidden somewhere on the ship.

Was there?

James indicated that she should walk past him, uncertainty still coloring his features. "Board?! Why would I not let you board? A million elephants could not prevent me from dragging you on board. Of course, you silly chit! But," James suddenly sobered, "you have no idea where I am going…"

Helen stopped and turned, smiling up at James. "But I intend on going anywhere you are going, darling. Will decided that once you found love, it was cruel to take that away. So, you are not the only one who is back from the dead. But as far as your travels go, I will be happy anywhere you are. I know women on a ship are bad luck, but I was hoping that you could make an exception in my case. There is so much of the world I want to see. With you. If you will let me…"

James crushed Helen against his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist. A smile danced at the corner of his lips and a small shake of his head indicated that what was happening was more than a little mind-boggling. But with a hard swallow, James lowered his lips to Helen's, brushing against them softly, before whispering, "Is it really you?"

Her hand slid from his upper arm and cradled the back of James' neck, her fingers playing with the wispy tendrils that pulled loose from his queue. Smiling against his lips, she whispered back, "Show me to the captain's quarters and I will prove to you how much it truly is me. Then, once the tides turn, I want you to show me how to sail!"

James felt his heart swell to the point of bursting. "'Tis you. I need not take you behind closed doors to know. However, I think that reacquainting ourselves after such an absence would not be a bad idea." James then gently kissed Helen, his tongue carefully exploring the seam of her lips before slipping into the velvety recesses of her mouth, ignoring the catcalls of the sea dogs and sailors on the wharf below. Like magnets drawn together, his lips never left Helen's as James scooped her into his arms and made his way to his sleeping quarters.

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**A/N:** Well, my little poppets, thank you for reading. As I stated in the beginning, this whole story was completely self-serving. I leave the story open so that Helen and James can have whatever adventures you want. I appreciate the time you took to stop by and read. Your patience with the story, your feedback... the fact that people enjoyed my writing means more than you will ever know. Your kind words have warmed my heart. I hope that I have served you all well.

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**A/N Part 2:** Luna Mare is Latin for Sea of Moon(s). Pronounced Loo-nah Mar-aye. 


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